Inner Demons
by mickey882
Summary: She has always carried heavy secrets, afraid of what kind of danger she will be to those around her. When she wakes up in the middle of the woods covered in blood and no memory, she has no idea what to do, but she knows her father will be after her soon enough. Her problems multiply when not only her father is hunting her, but two mysterious men in a sleek, black car as well.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, all. I am entirely new to fanfiction and writing in general. I finally convinced myself to put my thoughts to words, and I hope you all enjoy it. Please let me know what you think, and any tips are welcome!**

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She woke with a shuddering gasp and bolted upright. Leaves stirred underneath her, gripping her hair and clinging to her shoulders. The drilling pain in her head had woken her. It receded for a few moments before returning again.

 _You're finally awake._ The sarcastic voice drifted in her head. _I was getting incredibly bored._

She gripped the back of her skull as the pain increased. She finally wrested control and banished the drilling away. The throbbing resided and her head welcomed the cool relief.

 _Boo._ The voice pouted. _Always taking away my fun._

"Hush," she mumbled aloud, the word slipping out on accident. She was too busy scanning the area, wondering where she was and how she got there. Her brain scrambled to try and find the latest moment she could remember.

 _You were at the church._

She sucked in a sharp breath and shut her eyes, her mind flashing an image of the dusty, wooden church. A dark room. An angry face. A leaf finally detached itself from her hair and tickled her cheek as it fell. "Did I...?" She let the question trail off into the air, as if the forest around her had the answer. She looked down at her hands. Dried blood crusted her fingers and her clothes. She hurriedly scraped at her pale fingers, trying to get it off.

 _Yes,_ he answered. _They're all dead._

She winced and chewed on her lower lip, giving up on her hands. "And the Reverend?"

He laughed loudly in her head. _Oh he is_ _ **dead**_ _. You obliterated him. It was very artful, I must say, although much too quick._

 _I thought you would be more upset about his death,_ she replied, this time keeping her response in her head. She sounded surprisingly calm and was proud of herself for it.

 _And why would you think that?_

 _I just assumed all assholes liked each other._

There was a snort. _He is too much of a lesser asshole for me to like him._

She took a moment to absorb her surroundings again, her mind whirling as she tried to piece things together. They were all dead, and she was free. She felt a sudden surge of satisfaction at the thought, but she quickly pushed it down, burying it. She wasn't supposed to be happy about something like that. A cool breeze loosened leaves from her hair, and she picked at the others that were still attached.

"Time to get up," she muttered out loud. She pushed herself up and all of her joints and muscles groaned in response. She felt as if she had been tossed around in a storm. Perhaps she had. Even the scars on her back throbbed like they do after she's had one of her... accidents. She ran a shaky hand through her tangled hair, pulling out a few more leaves. The woods around her were painted in the bright, golden colors of fall. It would be a rather lovely scene if it wasn't for the dirty, blood-covered girl ruining the picture. None of it looked familiar, and she cursed quietly. It would be too easy, it seems, to have woken up near a street sign or something. She hesitated for a few more moments before forcing herself to walk, hoping it would be in the right direction.

After fifteen minutes, fortunately, the dark coloring of a road peeked out at her from between the trees. She eagerly picked up her pace, although her eyes continued darting around cautiously. As she came closer, she noticed the trees near the road were splintered and tipped over, some of the trunks viciously ripped away from the ground. She slowed instantly, putting her guard up. Stepping over a fallen tree and slipping around another, the road finally came completely in view. Her spirits sank at the sight. A smashed car lay hanging off the side of the road. The roof was completely caved in, as if a huge boulder had fallen on top of it and then rolled away. Shattered glass sprinkled the road, and it crackled loudly in protest as she carefully moved closer. The sight of a limp, bloody hand hanging out the window confirmed her fears, and she halted her approach. Lifting a small hand to her mouth, she continued to stare as her mind flashed wildly, guiltily. _No_ , she thought to herself. Unfortunately he could hear her denial as well, though he didn't voice a response. One part of her told her she should do something, give some small act of repentance to make up for what was possibly her fault. But the thought of repentance reminded her of the Reverend and she quickly changed her mind. "I am sorry," she murmured to the air, letting the cool autumn breeze carry it away. Then she turned and continued down the road.

Forty minutes later a town came into sight. She let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. She had a little more stamina than most people, but her muscles were still aching from earlier. Her stomach growled as if to voice another reason why the town was a good sign. As she continued to walk she gave herself a quick check. She looked awful, simply put. Her hair was matted and crusted with blood and leaves, her clothes were torn and dirty. Overall she smelled and looked like some horrific creature that would star in older horror movies. "I'd make a great zombie," she murmured to herself. He huffed in response, unimpressed. The crushed car flashed in her head, and she silenced herself, unhappy again.

As she drew closer, she noticed a dark feeling settled over the town. It felt as if the town was a kicked dog licking its wounds, and waiting in fear for the next round. Her steps slowed in response and went on high alert. People shuffled quickly from place to place, only looking up as if they were checking for a storm every so often. Some acted normally, smiling and greeting each other, but there was still a sense of restlessness. She quickened her pace again, eager to eat something, hopefully change and wash up, and then leave.

She headed for the closest store, eyes darting around. _I hope this is the right place_ , she thought, wracking her brain to remember what the place was called where she might find food. She peeked inside quickly and looked at the items stacked on the shelves. For the most part they looked like food, so she decided to risk it. In her head she played through the ways she could steal what she needed with the least bit of commotion. She stepped behind the corner of the building and leaned against the wall. She hadn't used her abilities for a while, and was unsure how it would feel. Carefully, she flexed her mind like she would flex an arm. It throbbed in response, groaning. But after a few more moments, it eased into it. Sucking in a breath, she shoved her hands into her pockets and concentrated on a small rock nearby. The rock shuddered unwillingly at first, and then scraped against the ground when she pulled harder. Finally it acquiesced and slowly lifted from the ground. As it slowly floated higher, it spun lazily in the air like it had just been woken from a nap. It wobbled precariously a few times as her mind slipped, but remained afloat. "Good enough," she mumbled, dropping the rock. It gratefully plummeted back to the ground.

She turned back to the store, her stomach growling again in anticipation. There was only one car parked outside the store, fortunately. She went in, hands shoved deep in her pockets and shoulders hunched forward. Hopefully anyone who looked would think it was just dirt on her and not dried blood. Hopefully it was brown enough. She heard a murmur of voices at the checkout, but she drowned them out as she scanned the aisles. She grabbed whatever she could, stuffing them into her pockets. She had no idea what anything was and she had never seen so much food in one place before. She tamped down the curiosity that bubbled inside her, refusing to allow herself to waste time. She was about to head towards the back to grab a few drinks when a piece of the conversation drifted her way.

"If you see her at all, let us know. Here's our card, and put this up, just in case anyone else has seen anything."

She froze instinctively. _There's no way..._ she thought. Footsteps headed towards the exit and she slipped behind one of the aisles to make sure she wouldn't be seen. When she heard the door close, she carefully moved towards the counter. The bags of food in her pockets crinkled loudly as she crouched slightly to remain out of sight, and she winced in response. Carefully she poked her head around the corner. She nearly gasped at the sight, an icy feeling creeping up her back. A black and white picture of her hung above the counter.


	2. Chapter 2

Panic bubbled in her gut and it took incredible amounts of control for her to not bolt right out of the store. Just when she thought she'd finally freed herself...

She wondered for a moment if they were sent from her father. But they didn't sound like them; anyone her father could brainwash to help him rarely asked other people for help, much less printed out pictures of her. Her brow furrowed as her mind raced through questions. Maybe it was the police? _I think that's what they're called_ , she thought, struggling to place a name to them. She hadn't known anyone knew she existed outside of her father and the Reverend. How would anyone know to look for her? Maybe it was one of Father's old enemies?

Suddenly the town flashed in her head, an image of people rushing around as if they were afraid something bad were about to happen. She let out a slow breath. Perhaps she was what they were afraid of, and what they were looking for her for. She cursed silently, hating that she couldn't remember a thing. How much damage could she have caused? _Abomination._ The word slithered up from a memory, spitting itself out from a twisted mouth. Perhaps the Reverend was right after all. A quiet chuckle floated up in her head. He was apparently amused by her self-loathing party. It's possible she had done nothing wrong, she reassured herself. It was a knee-jerk reaction to blame herself, and she was sick of the victim act. Maybe she was just too paranoid.

The sudden roar of an engine tore her from her thoughts. There had only been one car parked outside, and she was sure it belonged to the men who were looking for her. She hesitated for a few moments, torn between curiosity and the instinct to flee. Every cold, logical part of her told her to run as far away as possible and hide herself in some deep, dark part of the world where she couldn't possibly hurt anyone but herself. And the small part of her that still believed in wishful thinking and silly hopes wondered if they were some of the few good people in the world. She allowed a second more of warring before she made her choice and sprung into action. She quickly flexed her mind again, zeroing in on the cashier standing behind the counter. He had been busy with a magazine, slumped forward with a hand propping his chin up. She threw her mind out, shoving his shoulder back sharply. He stumbled back with a surprised shout, whirling around. In that moment she was out the door, food still stuffed in her pockets.

She scanned the street just in time to see the black car disappear behind a building. She cursed again, pushing her tired legs into action. A dull ache spread from her legs and dug itself into her side, but she ignored it. The car always barely danced in front of her vision before it would disappear again and she barely kept up. She was pushing it, even for someone less-than-human like herself.

After a few more minutes of running, the car finally pulled into a motel parking lot, winking at her as it moved under the streetlights. She slowed her pace gratefully, sucking in gulps of air. Some of her food had fallen out, she noted woefully. Hopefully she had not lost her food just to give herself up to strangers who meant her harm.

She slipped behind a building next to the motel and peeked around the corner, carefully watching the car. Two men climbed out, their gazes darting around the area as if they were used to constantly searching for danger. She squinted, straining her eyes to see in the fading light. One of the men was incredibly tall with broad shoulders and what looked like longer hair. She couldn't make out any more details from him. The other was shorter but just as broad-shouldered, with a scruffier tuft of hair. Both wore dark suits, she noted unhappily. Suits were never a good sign. They seemed like tightly coiled springs, ready to launch into action at any moment. It almost looked like they were waiting for something. She tamped down on the rising urge to run, wondering if she had been caught. After a few tense moments she heard the murmur of voices as they spoke to each other. She strained to hear, but could only catch snippets of words that the wind deigned to carry her way.

"What do you think... couldn't be... pattern... Cas..."

She chewed her lip in frustration, pressing herself tightly against the wall as she tried to listen and understand. There was no mention of her father as far as she could hear, which was a very good sign. She doubted it was anyone related to the Reverend. Anyone connected to him was probably wiped out along with him. So that left... the police? If that were the case, she was relieved. The police wouldn't know who, or what, she was. There was a brief moment when she wondered if the police could help her, but she quickly pushed that thought away. They couldn't protect her from a man like her father. Besides, she looked currently looked horrendous. She would more likely be subject to suspicion rather than help.

There was a sudden lull in the conversation that drew her attention. It seemed that they were listening for something. Fearing she had been discovered, she quickly backed away as quietly as possible. With a backwards glance she seared the name of the motel in her memory, just in case. Then she slipped into the shadows and put as much distance between the motel and her as she could.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello again, all. I've finally settled on a name for Amon. Sorry I kept it vague for a while, I'm terrible at deciding on names. The main character still doesn't have one, although there's a good reason for that (and I already have a few ideas for what it might end up being). Hopefully things aren't too confusing this way. Again, I hope you enjoy the story!**

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She walked briskly towards a different motel, a new set of clothes tucked awkwardly inside her jacket. It was much darker now and streetlights buzzed quietly above her, painting her and the sidewalk in a stale orange glow. Just ahead the motel's sign flickered and her legs sang in relief at the thought of sleeping in a bed. The one-floor building was squat and unimpressive, but to her it seemed glorious. With a quick glance around, she picked a random room towards the end and pressed an ear against the door. It was late, and it was doubtful anyone would be making enough noise to let her know the room was occupied. She cursed quietly. She decided to risk it and held her breath in anticipation. Her mind flexed and closed around the inner handle. The lock flicked and she felt the small shift of the door unlocking. As quietly as possible she pushed the door open, looking around. Her breath released in a relieved sigh when she saw that the room looked uninhabited. She stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind her, locking it and bolting it.

She pulled the clothes out from underneath her jacket and tossed them on the bed. She hadn't managed to get her hands on some shoes, but while her shoes were dirty, they didn't have much blood on them. She pulled out whatever food she had left next. There were a few pieces of dark brown squares, something shaped in a swirl, and crackers. She only recognized the crackers. Her stomach growled despite not knowing what most of them were and she ignored it. She was too eager to clean herself off to worry about eating yet.

She stripped and stepped under the water, sighing contentedly. The water was very warm, and she was amazed at how easily she could change it to get even hotter. She had taken showers before, sure. Father Dearest rarely bestowed her with luxuries, but he loved himself too much to allow a smelly child run around him. As a result she could use the shower, just not very often and never with warm water. The Reverend didn't have hot water either. _This is amazing_ , she thought, turning her head up towards the showerhead. There were three bottles in the shower with her. She wasn't sure what each of them were for, but she guessed. All of them smelled nice, so she didn't care.

After standing under the hot water for an hour, it finally began to go cold. She gave a quick cursory glance over her body to make sure no blood or dirt remained. Satisfied, she shut off the water and got out. She dressed quickly, shivering slightly in the chilly room. She picked up one of the brown square foods, ripping it out of the packaging and eagerly digging in. Her eyes closed happily. It tasted like chocolate. She quickly polished off the rest of her food and cupped her hands under the bathroom faucet to drink some water. Finished, she collapsed on the bed and stared at the blank ceiling. It had been a long day, and her muscles twitched every so often as if to remind her that it was. The warm shower and good food kept her happy for a few minutes, but now everything was beginning to sink in again. _I killed people._ She realized she should be used to it by now; she had killed plenty of people before, even if it had been her father telling her to do so. But now she couldn't blame her father, and she didn't even know how many were dead because of her. She shut her eyes and the crushed car flashed behind her lids, fallen trees leaning away from it as if something ghastly had been there. She groaned and rolled on her side, clutching the bed sheets in a tiny fist.

A sudden bang broke her from her thoughts and she jumped, prepared to bolt. But it was only the door from the room next to her, and loud laughter and voices trickled her way. She relaxed slightly, staring at the wall as if she could see through it. Her heart clenched at the sound of laughter and she couldn't resist a surge of jealousy.

 _Why don't you go over and spend time with them?_ he said dryly. _I'm sure they'd love your company. You have so many interesting stories to tell._

She gave a sour expression at the suggestion, and he only laughed.

 _Touchy, touchy._

 _I wish I'd been stuck with another demon_ , she shot back.

He feigned insult. _You wound me._

She remembered the day her father introduced her to him. It was after her father had already done the spell and Amon was trapped inside her.

 _"Meet Amon," her father said, smiling. Her father's smile had the opposite effect a smile was supposed to have. "He is the demon I've been telling you about."_

 _Amon howled in response, throwing a slew of curses around in her head. She didn't know if her father could hear them or if it was just her. Her skin felt itchy and strange, as if something was pushing out from inside her. Her scars throbbed._

 _"It's fortunate you still have control of your body," her father continued, undeterred. "That's a very good sign. I will have to work on my spells a bit more. But at least the hardest part is done."_

Feeling her reminiscing, Amon broke her train of thought. _And I've hated you both ever since,_ he growled.

 _I am well aware,_ she replied in a weary tone. Amon had made very clear what he would do to her and her father if he ever escaped. _You know, you are the only reason why I won't let you out right now. After all, I have no need of you. But I enjoy living._

 _Let me out and I pinky-promise I won't rip you apart._

She nearly snorted. _Pinky-promise with a demon? As trustworthy as that sounds, I'll pass._

 _You're as bad as your father, leaving me trapped here,_ he snarled.

The insult riled her but she fought the bubble of anger that rose up. He was clearly baiting her, and she was too used to it by now to fall for it so easy.

 _I would never do such a thing to my best friend_ , she replied, pretending affection to bother him. She could practically feel his sneer.

 _You are trying to bother me, cute,_ he responded. _Perhaps I should put more effort into convincing you I am the furthest thing from your "best friend"._

The drilling pain in her head from when she woke up stabbed at her for a second. She gritted her teeth in annoyance. _A tantrum? I expected better of you,_ she said.

 _More of a lesson. You may have control now, but eventually you need to sleep, and when you do, I'm the one in control. I control your dreams._

She couldn't help the prickle of goosebumps that spread across the back of her neck. Knowing that he had spooked her, she could feel a wave of victory from him. The conversation was over. She eased back on the bed, reluctant to sleep even though she knew she had to. As she began to slip into unconsciousness, she hoped that she would sleep so deeply that she wouldn't have to face her dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry I haven't been as consistent with posting new chapters like before. School started up for me again, so it'll probably be this way for a while. As usual, please let me know what you think! Any tips are greatly appreciated.**

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She felt as if she was swimming in a pool of molasses. Her movements were slow and sluggish and her eyes could barely take in what was around her. It was too dark to see.

"Hello?" she heard a voice call.

She tried to move her body towards the sound of the voice, but her limbs responded sluggishly. "Hello," she echoed, her voice slurred.

"Hello, hello," the voice repeated in a sing-song voice.

She froze when she suddenly recognized it.

"It's you," the voice said.

She whirled around, straining against whatever was slowing her down. "Louise?" she asked, her eyes wide. "You..." In front of her stood a familiar face with round cheeks, curly brown hair and wide brown doe eyes.

"I've missed you, I haven't seen you in so long," Louise said, smiling a dimpled smile, as pretty as ever.

Her mind fought to keep up, bewildered and confused. "Louise... I've missed you too. But you shouldn't be here." She was suddenly afraid, sensing her father nearby. "You need to go, he can't know you're here."

Louise's face melted into a pout. "I don't want to go. I want to play with you."

"Louise, please," she begged, reaching out with her arms to push her away. "Louise." She finally managed to touch Louise's shoulder, but quickly pulled away when it felt wet. She looked down at her hand, gazing at a bright red bloodstain coating her hand. "No..." She looked up to see her father looming over Louise, a small smile on his lips. "No!" Her voice grew louder.

Louise stared at her with a blank gaze, the dimpled smile gone. Blood creeped over her shoulders and her neck. She started to move backwards, Father and her melting into the shadows behind.

"Wait!" she called, but her voice choked off as the drilling pain in her head came back. She stumbled forward and gripped at her head, a small scream escaping her. "Stop. Stop!" The drilling only increased.

She bolted upright in bed, a scream building in her throat. A quick glance around told her she was in the motel. "A dream, a dream..." she murmured to herself. Amon had delivered on his promise the night before. _That was low,_ she said to him, Louise's dimpled smile dancing in her head before being replaced with the bloody, blank stare.

 _Demon,_ he reminded her. _Unhappy demon._

 _Time to get up,_ she chanted to herself, trying to shake off the dream. She hadn't seen Louise in years, and the reminder of her left her dazed. She found herself washing her hands, even if she knew it had all been just a dream. She stepped outside the motel room, more than ready to leave it behind her.

She took a deep breath outside, tilting her head back to drink in the sun. Despite the fall season, the sky was blue and the sun shone brightly. She took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves. The warmth felt incredible. Regardless of all she knew she was supposed to worry about; her dad, Amon, the two men from before; she felt rather content. She had endless choices in front of her, and the freedom of it felt good. She could go anywhere, and the thought of it excited her a bit. There was so much of the world she wanted to see.

A growl from her stomach caught her attention and she glanced around to see if there was anything in the immediate area. There was something called a diner across the street, but she had no idea how those worked. She assumed it used money, and that she didn't have. She started walking, hoping to find another store with food like the one she found before. She preferred not to go back to that one, the image of her pinned above the counter making her shiver slightly.

She found another store and smiled to herself, a light spring in her step at the thought of the dark brown squares from before. They had been delicious. Carefully she stepped up to the doors and took a deep breath, her mind prepared to jump at any moment. Then she froze, hand hovering above the handle. Inside were the two men from before, handing the cashier what she assumed was another picture of her. Unfortunately the counter was close to the door, and all three of them turned in response to her movements. There was a moment where everyone stood still, as if time had slipped out of its wheel for a moment, and she stared at them with wide eyes and gaping mouth. The two of them seemed a lot bigger now than they had before. Time clicked back into place and suddenly she was running, shouts echoing behind her. There was a bang as the doors of the store slammed open.

"Stop," one of them shouted.

She did the opposite and pumped her legs harder, although they did not appreciate the sudden morning run. She swerved into an alley, slamming into the wall. She used it to push herself off, trying to go faster. The shouts sounded closer now. She leaped over a fallen trashcan, risking a glance behind her. She sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. They were way too close, and they did not look happy. Suddenly a hand snaked out and latched onto her arm, yanking her to the side. A small gasp escaped her as she was pulled through a doorway. The door shut behind her, and there was a loud thud as if a bar fell into place behind it. She looked around in a panic, her eyes straining to see in the sudden dark. The hand that grabbed her tightened its grip and dragged her along. Confused, she stumbled over boxes and pieces of wood that littered the floor, barely keeping up. The echo of their steps told her they were in a large room.

"What..." she began in a weak voice, pulling away slightly from the grip on her arm. It was beginning to hurt. There were loud bangs on the door behind her, muffled shouts leaking through. Eventually they stopped, and she let out a sigh of relief. She almost thanked the person but stopped herself. "Please let go," she said instead. The hand only tightened its grip in response. "Let go," she repeated, her voice more firm. Her mind flexed in her head, ready to strike. "Let-" She cut off as the hand suddenly released her. She rubbed her now sore arm. "Thank you." Suddenly the hands reached out again and gripped both her wrists. She jumped, her instinct suddenly screaming at her to run. Before she could move cold metal tamped down on her wrists. "What...?" The other hand released her and she lifted her arms, peering at her wrists in the low light. Handcuffs. She blinked in surprised, but relaxed a bit. Handcuffs wouldn't hold her if she wanted to escape.

"What are these for?" she asked, trying hard to see who the hands belonged to.

A light suddenly flickered on above her, and she saw an older man, seemingly in his fifties, staring back her. He stood stiffly as if he was unsure how to use his body. His gaze was blank, and it looked as if he was incapable of even thinking for himself. She peered at his eyes and then froze when she saw familiar pale orbs looking back at her. A sign of a spell her father frequently used.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. "I have her," he said in a monotone voice.

 _Get out, get out, get out,_ her instincts screamed, and she flexed her mind to break the handcuffs off of her. It flexed for a few moments but then stuttered, falling back helplessly. _What?_ An icy feeling crept down her back, and she lifted up her wrists again to take a closer look at the handcuffs now that a light was on. Her heart pounded at the sight of symbols etched on to it, the familiar pentagram shape repeating itself all around the one side. She looked back up in a panic, the man gazing dully back at her with the phone to his ear.

"Okay," he said to the voice on the phone and hung up. "We wait here."

She darted away, trying to go back the way they came. The man's hand suddenly snaked out again and latched onto her before she could get away, his fingers digging into the same spot as before.

"We wait here," he repeated, eyes staring straight ahead.

She fought down the tears that pricked at her eyes. Just this morning she had been in such a good mood. She struggled against his grip but he didn't let up. She tried to kick at him but he didn't flinch. She should've known better, the spell doesn't let them feel any pain. Her mind repeatedly flexed on its own, pushing helplessly against the handcuffs that tamped it down.

All of a sudden there was a loud bang and she froze. The man barely twitched, turning his head slowly towards the sound. There were a few heartbeats of silence and then the two men from the store melted out of the shadows. _Not good_ , she thought. On instinct she pulled away from them, but the man's tight grip kept her anchored.

"This seems fun," the one man said. He was the shorter one of the two. Both of them had guns pointed at her and the man, their aim steady. "Hate to interrupt."

Both her and the man remained silent. Her muscles tensed in preparation, ready to escape at the slightest chance. Time was running out for her.

"Not very talkative are they, Sammy." The same one spoke again, smiling. It was the type of smile her father would have; a smile given to something he didn't particularly like. Any hopeful thought she had before of them being good guys flew out the door.

The other man, presumably "Sammy", didn't respond. He took a few slow steps closer, the gun still pointed directly at her. She wasn't so much afraid of the guns; unless they knew better, regular bullets wouldn't harm her. But both of them looked entirely too comfortable in the situation. The man behind her didn't look much like a normal man anymore. The stiff posture and pale eyes would normally be enough to unnerve anyone, especially with a handcuffed girl thrown into the picture. But the two men didn't seem fazed. Instead, they looked as if this was barely the worst thing they had seen, and that made her wary.

"At least this makes it easier for us," the other man spoke again, still slowly moving closer. His eyes rested on her, glancing at the handcuffs. He seemed slightly surprised to see the handcuffs. She wondered if he thought she should be capable enough to break out of handcuffs. _Normally, he'd be right,_ she thought, pulling her wrists apart to yank helplessly at the handcuffs.

"Can't run away now," he said. "Just have to figure out what to do with you and Chuckles over here. I'm guessing you won't be helpful enough to tell us how to kill you." He waved his gun lightly in the air. "Unless a simple bullet will do the trick."

"No," the man behind her said, recognizing the gun as a threat.

The man who'd been speaking looked over at the man behind her, an eyebrow raised. "No?" he echoed. "Guess you won't be making things easier after all."

"We wait here." The man repeated his earlier command.

"Dean," the man called Sammy said, his voice a warning. Dean pointed his gun at the man again.

"Step away," Dean said, his face hardening.

The man was beginning to recognize the growing threat. "No," he said. "We wait here. No."

Dean and Sammy only moved closer still, guns still raised.

Suddenly the man exploded into action, lunging at the two men and dragging her along. A shot rang out and the man stumbled back, a steaming bullet hole in the center of his forehead. It was an amazingly clean shot. She didn't have much time to appreciate it, though. The slack in his grip was all she needed and she bolted. Shots rang out behind her but she kept running, holding her handcuffed hands close to her chest. Miraculously she didn't trip and she shoved open the closest door she could find. The sun streamed in and she flinched at the bright sunlight for a moment before pushing on. Her legs pounded the sidewalk and she gratefully left the building far behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Exhausted, she finally began to slow down, her legs stuttering at an awkward pace. They trembled slightly and it took a lot of effort to remain standing. This was the most she's ever had to run as far as she could remember, especially just a day after having one of her mysterious incidents. She was sure she would be having what Louise would call a "side-stitch" now if it were possible for her to get one.  
After taking a few deep breaths to try and slow her pounding heart, she looked around. She wasn't sure where she was, but it looked like it was a busier part of town. Crowds of people were moving around her and she was grateful for it. She leaned against the side of a nearby building, trying to catch her breath. She rubbed her sore arm absentmindedly, the handcuffs clinking as she moved. Apparently Father was making his puppets stronger. They hadn't been able to hurt her before.

 _I can't believe I didn't realize sooner,_ Amon suddenly said, laughing.

 _I can't believe you're actually amused by this. That was one of Father's puppets, and we came dangerously close to going straight back to him_ , she said. Of course, it was a bit surprising Father wasn't here right now. He usually traveled very quickly.

 _It's the Winchesters._

 _The what?_ She stopped rubbing her arm.

 _The Winchester brothers. The two men. They're hunters. I can't believe I didn't recognize them sooner. They're obnoxiously famous in hell._

 _Hunters?_

 _They hunt different creatures. Vampires, werewolves, the like._ He waved a mental hand dismissively.

 _There are people who do that?_ she asked, amazed at the idea. _Those creatures exist?_ She wondered if hunters were similar to police. Perhaps there were a lot more people like the Winchesters out there.

 _Witches and demons exist, why can't vampires and werewolves?_ he replied with a sniff.

She stood there silently for a few moments, contemplating. Then it clicked into place. _They're hunting me._ A memory of the guns pointed at her floated up, Dean's smile burned into her head. She suddenly felt even more tired than she already was. Physically and mentally exhausted. She realized now that maybe they really were the good guys. And she was the bad guy. Her head drooped forward and she rested it in her hands, taking deep breaths. Maybe she should just go back to them and let them do their job. She was a creature, a monster that killed people. She'd been responsible for many deaths and probably would be for many more if she stayed alive, and she-

She suddenly stopped, lifting her head slightly. She wasn't a creature, she was just a human like them. Amon, on the other hand, was a demon. _Maybe they can deal with him,_ she thought to herself. _Maybe hunters know how to do that._

 _They can try,_ Amon replied in a dangerously low voice. _But this will be fun, go ahead and talk to them. They'll just shoot you as soon as they see you._

 _Guns don't hurt me,_ she reminded him, her mind whirling as a plan started to unfold.

 _No, but if you're shot and then you let me out, you're dead. I'd be the only reason your body would still be alive._

She paused. Now she was even more grateful that the brothers hadn't shot her before. _Why tell me, then?_ she asked, a bit surprised. _You could've just let it happen; you would be free and I would be dead._

 _Because I want to be the one to give you a slow and painful death when I'm finally free._

 _How reassuring._ She couldn't help a shiver that ran up her spine. She wasn't sure if the Winchesters would listen to her, much less believe her enough to help her. They were clearly well-trained killers. The steaming bullet hole in the center of her captor's forehead was enough evidence of that.

The thought of Father's puppet reminded her that he was probably on his way now. If she wanted to approach the Winchesters at all, she had very little time to do it. She took a deep breath, determined now to try her luck with them. _Maybe I'm fooling myself a second time around,_ she thought. She reached for the jacket tied around her waist, digging into one of the pockets. It was difficult to do with her hand still handcuffed, but eventually she pulled out the small pouch contained inside and let out a sigh of relief. She was afraid she had lost it in all the running. After escaping her father years before, she had made the pouch to make sure he wouldn't be able to track her down easily with magic. Luckily she had learned the trick from him long ago. She tucked the pouch back into her pocket.

"I'm surprised you're still here."

The sudden voice made her jump and she whirled around in surprise. Her mind coiled tight like a snake ready to lash out at any moment, straining against the handcuff's symbols. A man stood next to her, leaning against the wall and smiling slightly at her.

She relaxed slightly when she saw it wasn't the Winchesters, but her legs still tensed, prepared to bolt at any second. "Who are you?"

"My name is Mr. Oliver Twist. But you, my dear, can call me Ollie." He pressed a hand to his chest and gave her a slight bow.

He was dressed in a well-tailored suit with a red flower pinned to it. His ink-black hair was slicked back, the ends of it curled around his ears. His face was all sharp angles and shallow cheeks, dark eyes gazing steadily at her as she gave him an obvious once-over. She was sick of seeing men in suits.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I simply want to talk. You met my friend earlier, now dearly departed."

An image of her captor flashed in her head, the bullet hole in his forehead smoking. "He was yours?" she asked, surprise coloring her tone. She had assumed it was her father's.

"Yes. I imitated your father's spell, although mine is much more improved I'm proud to say." He indicated her arm that still throbbed from his grip. "Much stronger than his. Still need to work on intelligence, though."

"You know my father?"

His grin widened. "Your father is very loud, and as a result, very well-known in our community. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn't know him. And he's why I'm here to talk to you."

She tensed, her eyes searching for the best escape route.

"You misunderstand," he said smoothly, noticing her reaction. "I'm here to be your ally. I believe we would make a formidable pair. You see, I'm not much of a fan of your father's. I'm sure you would share that sentiment with me. I wish to... bring him down, so to speak, and I believe you're a valuable asset to achieving that." His grin widened even more, and she was impressed someone could smile so big. His teeth gleamed at her.

She eyed him warily. "Allies? I'm supposed to trust you?" The warehouse flashed in her mind, the man gazing blankly at her with his fingers digging into her arm.

He waved a hand. "I apologize for the harsh treatment you received early. As I said, I need to work on intelligence when it comes to that spell. He can only follow simple instructions."

She didn't reply.

"Here, let me assist you." He pulled a out a key and held his hand out, gesturing at the handcuffs still latched onto her wrist. She hesitated before offering her wrists. He quickly unlocked the cuffs, placing the key and the cuffs into a pocket. She rubbed at her wrists and her mind flexed happily like a cat finally settling down.

"You don't have to believe me right away," he continued. "I understand that trust is something earned, along with respect. We can take our budding relationship one step at a time." He pulled the red flower from his suit and held it out to her, smile still gleaming.

She hesitated before slowly taking it from him, cradling it in her palm.

"If you ever need me, just call," he said, winking at her.

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "How?" Suddenly the flower grew hot in her hand and she cried out. Turning her palm over she tried to drop it, but it stuck to her skin. "What did you do?" She glared at him accusingly. But the space where he had been before was empty. She looked around, but didn't spot him in the crowd of people still moving around her. She looked back down at her palm to find the flower gone but an imprint of it burned into her skin. She cursed, rubbing a finger over the bumps.

She wasn't sure what to think of him, and she surprised herself by asking Amon. _What do you think?_

 _Uninteresting,_ he replied.

She decided to take that as a good sign.


	6. Chapter 6

She stared at the cracked motel ceiling, her dark brown hair spread out around her on the bed. It was so quiet the silence rang in her ears, and she was grateful for it. It was quiet moments like these where she could let her mind wander. Most of the time she would just daydream. Sometimes it would be about silly things, like what it would be like to be a superhero. In her mind there would be some kind of robbery, and the police would try to stop the bad guys but they would fail. Then she would swoop in, knock them down with her mind, and save everyone. She'd learned about superheroes from Louise. That was what Louise called her when she'd shown her abilities. That was before...

She shook her head, pushing the memories away. Pressing her hands over her face, she dragged her mind back to the present. After Ollie's mysterious appearance, she searched for the Winchester brothers. She'd retraced her steps, backtracking in the direction of the warehouse. It was to no avail, and she'd decided to give up and try again later. If she wasn't successful in finding them soon, she might just have to abandon her plan. Staying in this town didn't appeal to her.

With a sigh she lifted her hands, her eyes outlining the shape of the rose now engraved into her palm. She lightly traced over it with her fingers, unsure what to do with it. It was powerful stuff if it was able to leave a mark on skin like hers.

The setting sun dripped onto the floor of the room and she sat up, determined to continue her search for the Winchesters. Amon's agitation grew as she shut the motel door behind her and headed out. He had been like that ever since she decided to find them, and the feeling of it made her nervous. She wasn't sure if it was excitement to see her get shot or fear for both of them. Either way it wasn't pleasant.

The chill in the air made her wrap her jacket tighter around her and she stuffed her hands into her pockets. Her shoulders hunched up around her head and her gaze darted around, constantly searching for two familiar men in dark suits. There were less people outside than before now that the sun was going down and she was on high alert as a result. They could not find her first.

A flash of a dark suit caught her eye and she suddenly spotted them in the distance, moving perpendicular to her a few blocks away. At first she froze on instinct, the image of guns pointing at her flashing in her head. But she quickly pushed the thoughts away, breaking into a jog. She pushed hard to keep up, their long legs carrying them at a pace that was difficult for her to match inconspicuously. She kept a safe distance for a while, wracking her brain for a way to approach them. Suddenly they turned into an alleyway, and she moved forward eagerly, taking her chance. But when she turned the corner, the alley in front of her was empty. She stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowed in confusion. They'd simply vanished. _How-_

She was suddenly slammed against the alley wall, a hand clamped around her throat and a gun pressed into her temple.

"Wait," she gasped out, her hands clawing at the fingers latched onto her. Her mind flexed on instinct, but she fought it back.

Sam and Dean stood in front of her, Dean's hand around her throat and his gun pushing into her head. Sam kept his gun trained on her as well, looking as impassive as he had the first time he pointed a gun at her.

She cursed herself silently.

"That was stupid of you," Dean said, and she couldn't agree more.

"Wait," she repeated, her voice raspy. "Listen, please."

They ignored her, and Sam suddenly lifted up her lip. She squirmed uncomfortably, twitching her head to try and pull away.

"She's not a vampire," he said.

"I could have told you that," Dean snapped.

Sam ignored him and glanced up at the dark sky. "Can't be a werewolf, either. So what are you?"

She stayed silent for a few more moments, wracking her brain for a new plan. She was too terrified to mention Amon now. They were certain that she was a monster, and she didn't want to risk the chance of having to convince them otherwise. She had been down that road far too many times before, and she was painfully aware of where it would lead. Any hope that the brothers would be different was gone yet again. She just had to hope "witch" was better than "demon" in their eyes.

"You have five seconds," Dean said, interrupting her thoughts. She realized she had remained silent for too long as she stared at Dean, who was now flexing his finger over the trigger. She flinched.

"W-wait," she repeated yet again. "I'll explain."

The two gave her a hard silence, and she jumped on the opportunity.

"My father," she blurted, "is a witch. A powerful witch. He did something to me-" She hesitated. "I don't know what he did, but it changed me. It gave me, um, abilities. Like mind powers." Her voice broke off in a mumble and she shifted again in Dean's hold. His hand never relaxed. The two brothers gave each other a look.

"Changed you how?" Dean asked.

"A-a spell, some spell, I don't know." She cringed away from the doubtful glare Dean gave her.

"Why aren't you using it now, then?" Sam asked.

She wriggled, trying to loosen Dean's grip on her. "I don't like to use it on people. My father... he would make me do things for him, hurt people. I'm guessing that is why you both are looking for me." At least this part wasn't a lie, although it wasn't her father who made her hurt anyone in this town.

"Your father did that to you?" Sam asked while Dean gave a low whistle. She bristled at the sound.

"Your life _sucks_ ," he said, and she bit back a retort. From his tone, he obviously didn't trust her.

 _My life is infinitely worse,_ Amon complained inside her head.

"My father is powerful, like I said. He kept control over other people, and I was to do his dirty work. " Her voice cracked, her fingers feebly tugging at Dean's hand. "I never wanted to do it, but I didn't know any better, I didn't think there was any way around it. But now I've managed to escape from him, and that was why I was out here looking for you two. I thought, maybe... maybe you could help me."

"Help you," Dean repeated, his voice flat. Her spirits sank.

"Dean, wait," Sam said, lowering his gun and placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean's grip on her neck loosened slightly, and she gulped in the extra air gratefully. Sam murmured something in his ear and Dean's expression darkened.

"No, Sammy," he said, shifting his gun.

Sam shot him a look, and Dean gave a loud sigh and released her. "Don't move," he said, pointing his gun straight at her.

The two brothers moved to the other side of the alley, arguing quietly. Her heart pounded as she rubbed her neck. It was amazing, she could withstand bullets and knives, but she still needed to breathe.

Every instinct in her screamed to run as she stared at the two brothers. Every part of them oozed danger for someone like her. Even Amon was radiating the feeling of wanting to be far, far away from them. Before she could decide whether or not to bolt, the two brothers turned back towards her. Sam looked as calm as before while Dean's expression was stormy.

"We'll help you for now," Sam said.

She released the breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"If your father is as dangerous and as powerful as you said he is, you can help us find him."

She stiffened, her lips tightening to hold back the protest that bubbled up. Dean's gaze drilled into her.

"Alright," she finally said, her voice barely audible. Her plan was crumbling around her. Instead of running away from her father, she would now be running towards him with two men who had no idea what they were going up against. She risked a glance at Dean. His expression made her wonder for a moment if they would stand a chance against her father. Maybe being hunters gave the brothers an advantage she never had.

"Let me be clear," Dean said in a low voice, stepping forward. "I don't trust you at all. You will help us find your father and we will keep you safe from him. If you do anything, anything at all that even slightly breaks our agreement here, I will deal with you personally." He was close enough to tower over her, and she shrank back, pressing into the wall behind her.

She tried to respond but her voice caught in her throat, refusing to come out. She nodded slowly instead. He stayed for a few more seconds before finally backing off and she relaxed gratefully.

"Come on," he said. The brothers turned towards the entrance of the alley and she followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She had no idea what she'd gotten herself into, and she could only hope that it wouldn't turn out to be a big mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry that not much happens in this chapter, but I wanted to make sure I'm pacing the story and establish more of her personality. And her name, finally. Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

She found herself approaching the same black car she'd spotted in front of the store several days ago. A lot had occurred since then, and for a brief, fanciful moment she imagined what it would be like if she could speak to her past self before she'd walked in that store. _Probably tell myself to run_ , she thought. That's all she ever did. That's all she ever knew. Unfortunately her abilities did not extend to time travel, so she was stuck eyeing the car warily. It gleamed back at her cheerfully. She was not fooled.

Dean immediately went for the driver's seat, with Sam taking up the passenger. _Leaves the back for me_ , she thought, moving slowly as if the car were a monster about to bite. She'd never been in a car before. She knew what they were, certainly, but had never experienced it for herself. Father's means of transportation were faster than cars, so he never had use for them. The Reverend never let her leave anyway, so a car was unnecessary there as well. Dean shot her a look of irritation at her trepidation.

"Come on," he said. "I'm hungry."

Her stomach responded to his statement with a growl of its own, and she ignored the look he gave her. _Suck it up, you big wuss,_ she told herself, repeating a phrase Louise would say. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, the handle smooth and cool in her hand. She slipped inside and the leather seat grumbled as she settled in. Just when she'd finally started to relax, the sudden roar of the engine made her jump, feeling it rattle through her body. Dean gave the dashboard an affectionate pat before taking off.

For a while they all sat in silence, which didn't bother her too much as she was too busy watching outside the windows in amazement. The world blurred past her faster than she could keep up and she fought down a bubble of amazed laughter that threatened to escape. She couldn't fight the excited grin that had plastered itself on her face, though. She took to exploring the rest of the car, curious now. She recognized the handle that would probably open the door again, but there was another strange sort of handle on the inside as well. She stared at it uncertainly for a few moments, contemplating if there would be any consequences to her curiosity, and, if so, would she be able to handle the aftermath. Eventually she gave in, gripping the handle. After all, the Reverend always said curiosity and an eagerness to learn was a good thing. It took a few tries for her to figure out how it moved, but she finally succeeded. The window of the car rolled down as she cranked, crisp air suddenly blasting her face. She grinned again in renewed excitement, leaning her head out the window slightly. The wind ripped at her harshly, tugging its cold fingers through her hair and snapping its fingers at her cheeks. The engine rumbling underneath her drummed up her excitement even more. The world flew by in a blended blur of colors. "This is amazing," she said before she caught herself, turning towards the two brothers.

"Yes she is," Dean said, showing the barest hint of a genuine smile.

She squinted at him, taking note. It was the first genuine smile she'd seen from him. It took a few moments for her to realize "she" was the car. She hadn't realized cars had genders, and it seemed Dean was very affectionate towards this one. She made a mental note, tucking it away: to make Dean happy, compliment the car.

They sat in the quiet for a few more moments before she spoke up again.

"I've never been in a car before," she finally admitted, rolling the window up again.

The brothers exchanged a look, unspoken words flying between them.

"You've never been in a car?" Sam asked, twisting slightly in his seat to glance at her. His long hair fell forward as he looked at her.

She shrugged, turning her attention to the window to avoid looking at him. She never liked looking at people directly very much. "My father had faster means of transportation, being a witch."

"Does that mean you are a witch too?"

Her gaze flickered to Sam, wondering if anything would happen to her if she said yes. "Not really. I know a few spells that don't do much. My father never taught me anything because my only purpose was to do what he could not."

Sam seem satisfied with that answer and he twisted back in his seat. "What's your name?" he asked after a few moments.

She froze in surprise, her head whipping to look at him. She'd forgotten she didn't have a name. It was easy to forget when you didn't talk to many people and most of them referred to you as "girl" or something along those lines anyway. Louise had pointed it out to her long ago, as well as the Reverend in the early times when he was kinder. But she'd brushed it off and forgot about it, all of them getting used to finding other means to call her. And now she didn't have anything to call herself. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to admit that fact to the Winchesters, so she wracked her brain for an idea. What had Louise called her sometimes? _Pipsqueak_. The word floated up in her head. _Munchkin_. Louise called her a few things, mostly words that had to do with her lack of height. She latched onto one of the words, blurting it out.

"Pip-," she started, the latter half of the word catching in her throat as she suddenly became unsure. The word hung in the air and she was unable to take it back.

"Pip?" Dean asked, his voice incredulous. "Your name is Pip?"

"Yes," she replied, crossing her arms. She suddenly felt very defensive about it.

"Like pipsqueak?" Sam asked.

An image of Louise flashed in her head as he said it, and she smiled slightly to herself. The name would make her think of Louise. "Yes," she repeated, determined to keep it.

 _Pip_ , Amon said, sounding as if he was tasting the word. It felt strange to hear him say a name that belonged to her now, and she couldn't help a shiver that shook through her at the sensation. She could feel his quiet chuckle at her reaction and her brow dipped in annoyance. The brothers at least had let the name go, but she sensed there would be more questions coming later. Maybe they were waiting until they were home, wherever home was for the two, before they would continue asking.

Silence reigned again for a few more minutes before Dean hit a button on the dashboard. To her surprise, music floated out, filling up the car space. Her curiosity ignited again and she leaned forward slightly, busying herself with examining the dashboard. Dean eyed her warily at first, but after a while seemed satisfied that she would look but not touch anything.

When her curiosity died down again, Pip suddenly realized she felt queasy. She'd been too distracted to notice it before, and she wasn't sure how long it'd been. Now that she paid attention to it, the queasy feeling rose until she felt like she was going to throw up. "I don't feel so good," she said, clutching her stomach.

Dean glanced back at her, his brow furrowing when he saw her bending forward. "No," he practically shouted at her. "You are _not_ going to be sick in this car or so help me-"

Sam cut him off, turning towards her. "What's wrong?"

"I feel sick," she said, her eyes screwing shut.

"You're probably carsick. Just," he glanced out the window as if checking where they were, "hang in there, okay? Keep looking towards the horizon, that's supposed to help." Dean grumbled under his breath, most likely threatening her well-being if she did end up being sick.

She complied, leaning back in the leather seat with an inward groan. She was over the original novelty of the car, part of her wishing that the Winchesters had the same method of transportation her father had. Another mental note was added to her growing list: don't trust cars. Her eyes stayed glued to the horizon, fighting down the nausea that rolled over her. Eventually the gentle thrumming of the engine and the slight rocking of the car as they drove began to lull her to sleep. She tilted her head back and shut her eyes, letting sleep carry her away.


	8. Chapter 8

She woke to the sun shining and a murmur of voices drifting in from outside. Slowly she cracked her eyes open, forgetting where she was. Memory flooded back in when she saw the leather seat in front of her. The car was shut off, and from the sound of it, Sam and Dean were outside. She shut her eyes and let out a slow breath, part of her reluctant to get up. Her body still ached slightly. It didn't hurt as much before, at least. She opened her eyes again, staring at the cracked leather seating. Her eyes traced each individual crease while her mind raced. She was in a car with two strangers who were well-trained killers as far as she could tell, and they believed her to be a monster. At the moment they were willing to let her be in order to get a bigger monster, but for all she knew that was only a temporary arrangement. Maybe they would not let her go when it was done.

"We are not taking her in there, Sam." Dean's voice wormed its way in the car as he practically shouted, dragging her thoughts away.

Sam's voice was quieter, as if he was soothing his brother.

Pip automatically stilled her breath, straining to hear. She closed her eyes again in case they could see her and hoped she still looked asleep.

"She can help us, Dean, and we don't know how long it will take. What if it takes days? Weeks? We don't know anything about her father, and do you really want to spend that long in some dingy motel room?"

Dean made an exasperated noise.

"Besides," Sam continued, "the bunker's in the middle of nowhere. If she runs away we can find her before she gets far. It's secure here."

Dean snorted. "First Rowena and now this chick. Let's just bring everyone in here for a big ol' party."

"She's not a monster, Dean." Sam's voice was quieter, and it was difficult to fight the urge to move closer to hear. "She looks..." His voice trailed off. "She looks like I did, Dean. Like she has some part of her that she doesn't know what to do with. I think she's afraid of it."

A wave of relief flooded through her. It was odd; Sam was a complete stranger and yet he at least understood that much about her. The way he phrased it made it sound as if he had personal experience, and her curiosity piqued. She doubted he would ever indulge her curiosity with something so personal, though.

"She's a witch, Sam." Dean's voice was louder again, frustration painting his words. "Don't fall for that whole, wide-eyed victim act, not again."

"We don't have to trust her completely yet," Sam said, his voice still smooth and quiet compared to Dean's angry one. "Just play ball for a bit, figure things out. We can keep an eye on her in the bunker." The relief she felt before vanished, replaced with a curl of dread that settled in her stomach. The silent " _for now_ " in Sam's statement only reaffirmed her fears.

Dean response was too quiet for her to hear clearly. There was silence after that, and she strained her ears harder to try and hear what she was missing. Suddenly a loud bang smacked the side of the car and she jumped up, clutching the seat in front of her like a lifeline, afraid she'd been caught.

"'Mornin, pipsqueak." Dean's face peered inside the window at her, his eyes crinkling as he smirked. He stepped back as she got out of the car.

It was another nice day, the sun shining down surrounded by a cloudless sky. She stretched, tying her jacket around her waist to feel the sun on her arms again. It was one thing she never tired of. Feeling the sun meant freedom, and freedom was nice. She looked over at the brothers. _Well, mostly freedom._

"Good morning," she finally responded, absently rubbing her eye with the back of her hand. It didn't seem like they knew she'd been listening.

"Here." Dean tossed a paper bag and a drink at her and she caught them in surprise. The smell drifted up to her and her stomach growled in response. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing.

"Thank you."

Dean grunted in response before turning back towards the car. His brother sat on the hood, eating his own food. Sam twitched his head at her in acknowledgment. His face revealed nothing to her and she couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed. Earlier he had sounded kinder, and she had hoped she found an ally. But if he had any sympathetic feelings, they were carefully packed up behind a wall of indifference.

She stood awkwardly for a few moments, wondering where to go. They were standing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dirt and sand and rocks. Only the road sliced through the wave of desert like a black snake.

"Where are we?" she asked, squinting her eyes at the horizon to try and see if there was any sign of civilization nearby.

"Close to home," Dean said vaguely, taking a bite of his food.

She clenched her jaw in frustration, fighting back a retort. She knew it wouldn't help anything to antagonize them.

"Sounds good," she said mildly, trying to sound cooperative. Their previous conversation echoed in her head. She sat on the ground near the side of the car since Sam and Dean took up most of the space on the hood and she wouldn't dream of trying to sit with them. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out something wrapped up in foil. "What's this?" she asked as she peeled back the wrapping.

Dean stared at her as if she were insane. "A burger. Don't tell me you never had a burger?"

She shook her head at him while taking a bite. "Oh, this is amazing!" she said in surprise, staring at the burger.

Dean smirked at her. "Damn right. See?" He addressed the last part to his brother, taking a big bite out of his own burger.

Sam only rolled his eyes, focusing on his food.

After they all finished eating they were back on the road. She didn't relish the idea of getting carsick all over again, but she didn't dare voice a complaint. Living with her father and the Reverend taught her complaining never ended well and didn't solve a thing.

Unfortunately it was a few more hours until they reached what she assumed was home. She felt more than ready to throw up by the time they got there and she stumbled out of the car when they stopped, grateful for the cooler air on her face. She took a few moments to drink in the fresh air before looking at where they were. The desert they had been in before had given way to a more forested area, and a hill covered in trees reared in front of her. Most of them were still covered in brightly-colored leaves, but a few were bare, their spindly arms reaching for the sky. The stretch of trees was interrupted by a tall, imposing building of gray stone. The entrance to the building sat a bit farther downhill, seeming to lead directly into the hillside. Overall the place looked uninviting, and goosebumps prickled on her arms at the sight. It looked like something her father or the Reverend would live in.

"This is home?" Her voice sounded timid and she regretted speaking.

"Welcome to the bat cave," Dean said, though it sounded like he was speaking more to himself than to her. She assumed it was a joke but he didn't sound particularly amused.

Her feet remained stuck in place, refusing to carry her forward. Her instincts screamed to stay away, but she was determined to not make a fool of herself by running. Dean went ahead, not noticing she stayed behind.

"Come on." Sam's soft voice sounded behind her and he materialized next to her. He reached out a hand toward her as if he were going to put a hand on her shoulder, but then changed his mind at the last second and pulled it back. "It's fine."

She took a deep breath, forcing her stiff legs forward. "You guys have an interesting home," she said, mostly just to say something. She had no right to talk about strange homes, anyway.

Sam gave a small laugh in response, and she risked a quick glance at him in surprise.

"Yeah, it's strange," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking up at the building. "It's a bunker that... others used to live in until we found it. Now it's just us."

"Do bats really live here?"

He gave her a confused look until he understood. "Oh, no, this isn't really a bat cave. There are no bats here. As far as we know, anyway. Dean just meant that like... the bat cave, you know, like in Batman."

She furrowed her brow at him. "There's a bat man?" She tried to imagine what that would look like, and it wasn't pretty.

"Never mind."

Despite the strange situation she was in, she found herself relaxing near Sam. He seemed like the kinder of the two brothers, and she hoped that maybe she could earn his trust.

"Um, Sammy," she began carefully, using the name she first heard Dean call him. She wasn't sure which one was the right one and took a guess.

Sam suddenly looked at her sharply. "Sam," he interrupted, his voice hard. Whatever kind demeanor he had before was gone.

She recoiled, fear shooting through her like a lightning bolt. _Wrong guess, apparently_. The image of a gun pointed at her flashed in her head again. "Sam," she amended, her voice shaky. Whatever appeal she had planned in her head to try and get his trust vanished in a puff of smoke. She didn't bother trying to finish what she had tried to say, and he didn't ask.

The entrance to the bunker lay ahead, looming over her. Her muscles tensed again, the urge to bolt bubbling up again. But Sam was behind her, and she found she'd rather face the bunker than him.


	9. Chapter 9

The inside of the bunker was surprisingly more welcoming compared to the outside, although she still found her legs hesitating to carry her forward. Only when Sam loomed behind her did she hurry inside. There was a front area filled with machines she didn't recognize, but they continued past that to a larger room filled with books and tables. She couldn't help but look around in wonder. There were a ton of books and a smattering of strange items scattered around. Everywhere she looked there was something new to look at.

"Freakin' slowpokes." Dean's voice caught her attention. He sat at a long wooden table in the center of the room, books piled around him and a computer open in front of him. At least she knew what that was. He leaned back as Sam and her approached, watching her carefully. "Sit," he said to her, jutting a chin at a chair across from him.

She wanted to do anything but sit down for what she knew was an oncoming interrogation, but she forced her reluctant muscles to comply. The lights in the building suddenly seemed too bright and too loud. She focused on the thick wooden table instead, trying to read the books that surrounded Dean. As her eyes drifted she noticed a gun laying nearby and her muscles tensed all over again, a bubble of panic settling itself in her gut. She was starting to feel sick again, and this time she couldn't blame the car. She became all too aware of the fact that she was probably underground right now.

Sam took a seat next to his brother who leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table. Both of the brothers seemed just as tense as her, though they looked a lot calmer. She didn't doubt her eyes were wide in fear and she probably looked like a scared animal. They, on the other hand, just seemed ready for anything.

"Relax," Sam said in a quiet voice again, holding a hand up as if she were a deer about to bolt. "We just want to ask a few questions." He was back to being kind, but this time it didn't make her feel better.

"Tell us about your father," Dean said. She forced herself to look at him. The intense look he was giving made it difficult to maintain eye contact. Some part of her brain told her that he could have the gun in his hands in one second and she would have a bullet hole in the next.

 _That would be fun to see._ Amon's voice surprised her and she couldn't stop herself from jumping at the sound of it. He hadn't spoken in a long time.

 _Shut up_ , she hissed, coming dangerously close to saying it out loud. The brothers narrowed their eyes at her, noticing. Thankfully they didn't say anything.

"My father," she began hesitantly, "as you know, is a witch." The Winchester's steady stares pushed her to continue. "He controls a large portion of the magic world, having people work for him in exchange for, well, in exchange for no punishment. He offers loans, magical weapons; different services like that." She waved a hand as if she were gesturing to all the lucrative offers her father had. She took a deep breath. "I played many roles in the whole thing, although mostly I was the one sent to collect money or, uh..." Her voice trailed off, ashamed to continue. She picked at the table, suddenly eager to put her attention elsewhere. "Sometimes people needed _convincing_ that they were supposed to do what he said. Most of the time he would come along for that, but sometimes..." Her voice broke off again and she felt ragged, like something had cut through her.

The two brothers looked at each other. "We never heard of anything like that," Dean said, looking back at her. "Didn't know witches were like the freakin' Godfather."

She assumed that was another reference to something she didn't know about. "The magic world is much bigger than it seems. My father isn't the only one like that, but he's the biggest." An image of Ollie's sharp face flashed in her mind, his teeth gleaming at her. Maybe she would tell the brothers about him another day. She still wasn't sure she could trust him.

"Your father has always been like that?" Sam asked.

 _It's like he knew I didn't want to talk about that_ , she thought, chewing on her lip. For a moment she pondered lying, but quickly changed her mind. She was lying enough as is. Adding more to lie about would make it difficult to keep it up, and the last thing she wanted to do was get caught in a lie by these two.

"As long as I've been around, yes," she said finally. She stopped there, hoping that would be enough, but the brothers could sense there was something more and gave her a pointed look to continue. Her mouth twisted as if she ate something sour. "When my father decided he would need someone to do his dirty work, he figured it would be easier to make his own and train them to do what he wanted. He can brainwash and bully people, but sometimes it's not always successful. So he, quite literally, made his own." She paused, looking down at the table thoughtfully. "Although this plan wasn't completely successful either." She glanced up at the brothers. "I don't know anything about my mother, so I don't know if the whole ordeal was consensual or... forced. But I know I came from it and he kept pounding into my head that my only job was to do what he wanted. And I believed him; for the longest time I didn't know anything else." Her voice drifted off in a silent " _until"_ , Louise's face flashing in her head. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, trying to shake off the heavy weight that had settled over her shoulders without her noticing. "So yeah, he's always been like that for me."

"And now you're willing to stop him," Dean finally said after a long silence, his tone hinting he still didn't quite believe her. Sam shot him a sharp look.

She furrowed her brow at him, anger bubbling up. _He still doesn't believe me_. She suddenly felt like screaming in frustration, and her mind flexed restlessly. She had to fight the urge to lash out at something with it. "Yes," she said, her voice tight. "I want to be able to live without having to look over my shoulder, without him hurting other people in order to find me. When I escaped, I angered him. If I had any desire to go back to "working" for him, it wouldn't be without some form of punishment from him. And I have no desire to be punished or help that man in any way. Not anymore." At first she had spoken the words as a lie, still wanting to run away rather than face her father. But as she said them she discovered they were the truth. She knew the world would be a better place without her father in it, and she owed the world at least that much for all the damage she's done to it.

"Can you show us the... ability you mentioned?" Sam said.

She rolled her shoulders and sat up straighter, happy to talk about something else. She looked at a book sitting near Dean and her mind reached out eagerly, like a muscle finally getting to stretch after sitting in one position for too long. She technically didn't have to look at the book, but she figured it would be easier for the brothers to see if she did. Her mind wrapped around the hard cover and lifted it slowly into the air. When she'd first tried using her mind long ago it took endless practice to be able to lift something up just right. Her mind always seemed too forceful, always practically throwing something when she picked it up; it didn't seem like something meant to be gentle. It took a lot of control and pulling her mind back just to hold something in the air. _Tossing people, on the other hand..._ She pushed the thought out of her head, unhappy about how easy it was for her to hurt people.

The brothers stared at the floating book, not nearly as surprised as she expected. _Guess I should've realized they would be used to it_. Maybe they'd met a lot of people like her already. She slowly lowered the book to the table and her mind settled down again, eagerly waiting for the next time to stretch.

Dean sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. "And your dad is the one who did that to you?" he asked as if making sure.

She nodded slowly. _At least it's mostly the truth_.

"Alright," he said, rubbing his jaw with a thick hand. He suddenly looked older and she realized the two brothers were probably younger than she thought they were. "How do we find him?" He dragged the conversation back.

She hesitated, reluctant to go back to that conversation. "It's important to be careful with my father." She clasped her hands to stop herself from picking at the table again. "There's a reason why he controls such a large portion of the magic world, and he is not to be underestimated." The scars on her back tingled as if to remind her, and she resisted the urge to scratch them. She studied the new scar on her palm instead. "I figure the best way to find him is to have him find us." She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out the pouch inside.

Sam and Dean tensed, eyeing the thing warily. "Hex bag?" Dean asked.

She blinked in surprise. "Oh, no. It's just something that hides me from my father." She shook it a bit and the contents shifted inside. "One of the few spells I know. If I get rid of this, he'll undoubtedly appear soon. He would not be happy, though. I may, um," she looked away, "I may have taken something that belonged to him."

 _I do_ _not_ _belong to him_ , Amon said, his voice shaded with anger. She felt him rile up like a spitting cat but ignored him.

Dean sighed and placed his hands on the table, pushing himself up. "We'll deal with that another time," he said. "Right now, I'm hungry."

"Dean, we just ate," Sam said, sounding surprised.

"So?" Dean spread his arms as if challenging his brother, and disappeared further into the bunker.

Sam didn't rise to the challenge and sighed instead, turning back towards her. "We can talk about dealing with your father later. I'll show you your room."

Her eyes widened slightly. "I get a room?" She regretted the words as soon as they came out.

He gave her a strange look. "Yeah. This way." He got up and she did the same, silently cursing herself as she followed him. He led her down a hallway spotted with several doorways. She looked around curiously, wondering what was behind them.

"Here," he said, stopping in front of one and opening it. He leaned against the door and looked at her. "I don't know how long this will take, hopefully not too long. We've got uh, other things to deal with as well." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, thank you." Her voice came out quieter than she wanted it to. She stepped inside, looking around. It was bigger than she expected it to be. A bed sat in the center of the room with a drawer off to the side, pressed up against the wall. A desk sat on the opposite side with a lamp. She looked back at Sam who looked as if he was about to say something but changed his mind. He gave a stiff nod and a smile-that's-not-really-a-smile before walking away. When he disappeared she shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a sigh. She had no idea what to do now. The brothers let her convince herself that she really did want to deal with her father, but now she reminded herself what exactly that entailed. She'd have to let him find her, and the thought of that...

Goosebumps prickled at her skin and she shivered at the icy feeling that crept up her back. She reached in her pocket to touch the pouch that lay safely inside, reassuring herself. It wasn't time to face him yet.

She looked around what was now her room, determined to think about something else. A mirror hung above the dresser and she went to look at it. Her image was pale and ragged in the mirror, her dark brown eyes looking more like sunken black pits. Her brown hair looked tangled and crazy and she found herself wishing for a brush, tugging gently at the knots. Unfortunately the only thing she owned was the clothes she stole, her pouch, and now a room apparently. Though she wasn't sure how long she would get to keep the latter.

"Thank goodness he left."

She whirled around at the voice, her mind lashing out before she could stop it. It latched on to the source of the voice, throwing them against the wall and holding them there.

"Easy, easy," Ollie said, laughing. He held up both of his hands.

"You," she said in shock, her mind loosening its grip on him in surprise.

He gave her a wide grin in response.

"You need to stop doing that," she said angrily, pulling back her mind.

He settled to the ground and dusted himself off. "Apologies," he said in a way that didn't sound like much of an apology at all.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a lower voice, hoping the brothers hadn't heard anything.

"You never called," he said. "I got bored of waiting, wanted to see things for myself." He started to walk around her room, poking at it. "I hear you've got a name now, Ms. Pip. And I hear the hunt for your father begins."

Her eyes narrowed at him and he only smiled in response. She didn't like that he apparently could know everything that happened. She opened her mouth to tell him so but he interrupted.

"Pip is a nice name, very fitting of you." He gestured to her small size and she rolled her eyes. She suddenly felt tired and just wanted him gone.

"Right, well, Ollie-"

He cut her off again. "Oh, I'm not Ollie anymore. That name's expired. My name is Shylock now."

She blinked in surprise. "Shylock?" _Can people do that?_

He nodded gravely. "Yes. And now you may call whenever you like."

"I don't even know how to call you, uh, Shylock."

He laughed. "Yes you do." He gestured to the hand that had the rose scar on its palm.

She sighed in frustration. "Yes, I know this has something to do with it." She waved her hand in the air. "But I don't know _how_ -"

She was cut off by sudden knocking on the door. "Pip?" Sam's voice drifted in.

"Shy-," she began to say, about to tell him to leave, but the space where he had been before was empty. She looked around in surprise, but there was nothing in the room to hint that he had ever been there. _I'm not crazy, am I?_ she asked Amon. _He was here_.

 _Who?_ he responded innocently, but she could feel the lie.

 _Not crazy then_ , she reassured herself as she went to open the door. "Yes?"

Sam leaned in and glanced around the room. Dread settled in her stomach and she hoped he hadn't heard anything. "Dean's got food," he said finally and she relaxed slightly.

"Okay." She glanced in the room one last time, half expecting to see Ollie or Shylock or whatever his name was in the room again. But the room remained empty and she slowly turned to follow Sam, leaving the room behind.


	10. Chapter 10

Pip was excited to see familiar paper bags sitting on the table. Her stomach growled and she couldn't help a smile growing on her face. She was suddenly much hungrier than she was before and her mouth watered at the thought of burgers. Grabbing one of the bags she dug in eagerly, only slowing down after the first few bites to relish the taste. Grease dribbled down her chin and she wiped it away absentmindedly. She could almost imagine her father's look of disgust in her head, and it made her enjoy the burgers even more.

Dean quirked an eyebrow at her excitement but didn't comment. He pulled a box out of another bag and sat down. When he opened it she saw a round-shaped food she vaguely recognized but couldn't quite place. "What's that?" she asked, her burger momentarily forgotten as she zeroed in on the other food.

Dean shot her a dark look and wrapped an arm around the box possessively. "Mine, is what it is," he said.

She relented, but her eyes kept drifting back to it.

"Dean loves pie," Sam said.

Pip started at the word. Memories of her time at the Reverend's house flooded her. His mother often baked pies on Sunday. The older woman would roll out the dough on the dingy, yellow counter and Pip would watch silently, entranced by the whole process. When she was finished baking the whole house would be filled with the smell of it. Some days she would let Pip have a slice. That had been in the earlier days, though, before things changed. She never got to watch the woman bake again, much less get a slice of pie. _And now she is dead_.

Her appetite soured at the memory and she lost all interest in Dean's pie. Not that she would have much of a chance to get a piece anyway. Dean quickly polished the whole thing off before sitting back and brushing the crumbs off of his hands. Sam gave an annoyed expression and swept at some of the crumbs that flew his way.

After the meal Pip sat back in her seat, putting her hands on her stomach contentedly. _I need a nap,_ she thought, feeling drowsy after having eaten so much. Her eyes drifted shut.

"Wake up, shortie." Dean's voice pulled her back. "We've still got work to do."

Reluctantly she reopened her eyes, a big part of her wanting to just throw a tantrum until they'd let her sleep. It was unjust, eating all that food and then having to work right after. "What do you have in mind?" she asked, ignoring the complaints that ran around in her head.

"Dealing with your father," Sam said.

She blew out a frustrated breath. "What's your plan?"

"Witch-killing spell," Dean said bluntly.

She blinked in surprise. "That exists?" Knowing that might've saved her months of hiding and running. "How does it work?"

"It's a possibility," Sam said, giving his brother a pointed look. "If your dad is as strong as you say, we'd have to do everything right." He looked back at her. "We'd need some time to prepare the ingredients. So far it's worked with burning the right ingredients and saying the spell."

She shivered at the words "so far". Apparently they'd killed witches before. "It's dangerous to fight him with magic. He'll be well-prepared for it. Plus he might have some of his lackeys with him..." Her voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying. Her father was in control of a huge empire with many people who supported and protected him. Despite their probably fragile loyalty to him, if she and the Winchesters were somehow successful in getting rid of her father, someone could easily take his place.

With a sinking feeling she realized that, for the Winchesters, getting rid of her father probably wouldn't be enough. As long as his domain continued running, he would be replaced by someone else willing to inflict the same damage. She gritted her teeth, trying to convince herself not to mention anything. After all, once her father was dealt with she wouldn't have to care if his business kept running. He was the only thing she was worried about, and whoever replaced him might not be as interested in her. What should she care of people that were caught in his grasp? She had herself to look out for and that was trouble enough already.

She grew more and more agitated as she thought about it, the task of dealing with her father suddenly seeming more impossible. The thought of running away seemed much more appealing now. But she knew she wouldn't be able to let someone just take over her father's business and continue to hurt people. The Winchesters would have to destroy her father's empire before going after him. Some small part of her was actually thrilled at the thought, relishing in the idea of stopping the bad guys and doing good for once, like a superhero. The rest of her was terrified. _At least I'm not alone_ , she thought, looking at the brothers. They had been talking to each other quietly, not noticing that she had been silent the whole time.

"I think," she said quietly, interrupting their conversation, "it's not just a matter of going after my father." They both turned to look at her and she flinched under the now-familiar intense looks the brothers seemed to always have. It would take a while to get used to. "Like I said before, my father controls a huge magical business. If we somehow managed to get rid of him, the seat of power would be open for anyone to take. And trust me, many others would be trying to take it. It means a lot of power and money. Maybe they wouldn't be as powerful as him, but I've no doubt they would be able to inflict as much damage. They'd have to be powerful enough to fight off the competition anyway."

She shook her head, fighting the urge to sigh loudly. "So before dealing with my father, we'd have to break up his business. To make sure no one else becomes him." At least that was a bright side of the plan; she could postpone facing her father even longer. It was strange using the word "we." She never had others to help in dealing with a problem, and she was incredibly grateful for it now.

They spent the next few hours talking about talking about her experience with her father's business. The brothers had agreed with what she said, and she was a bit surprised. The problem just kept getting bigger and bigger, yet the brothers still wanted to deal with it. A part of her had wondered if they would drop the whole thing after hearing just how much they'd have to take care of. Dealing with one monster had rapidly evolved into dealing with an entire underground magic operation. But the brothers were seemingly still determined to stop it.

She told them that her father had started out with magical favors. Using spells he would grant requests, at the right price of course. She'd realized a while ago that his obsession with demons and their powers probably started this. After all, the whole reason she was stuck with Amon was because her father had met a crossroads demon. But she couldn't mention this to the Winchesters, afraid it would start a line of questioning that would lead straight to Amon.

Instead she focused on how her father would force people to work for him if they couldn't pay whatever exorbitant price he gave. Whoever worked for him would make small, magical items that he could sell to humans or other witches. Of course, in order to make magical items, one had to know magic. And in order to know magic, a person would have to buy lessons in magic from her father. Eventually the person would be so trapped in debt they would never be free of it. Running away would mean death and failure to pay would mean death. Working was the only option.

As the number of people in his control grew, so did his empire. Soon jobs extended to keeping others in control, not just making magical items. Those who were smart enough to not buy favors from her father were attacked by his men. In order to avoid their attacks they would have to pay him. Those who couldn't pay were stuck working for him. Eventually he grew powerful enough to control any witches living within his domain. If you wanted to leave you would have to pay an impossible sum. If you were forced to stay you had to pay money to avoid attacks. Any attempt to escape would mean death.

Other empires similar to her father's also started to grow nearby as her father gained more recognition and power. Only the number of them prevented him from trying to get rid of them. If he attacked one, then they all would attack, eager for the chance to control his area. Instead, they all existed with tense relationships, sometimes trading between them. Occasionally, they worked towards a common goal, although with no lack of distrust and greed.

"We might have to deal with the smaller empires too," she said, rubbing her forehead tiredly. "But they are smaller and wouldn't need as much effort. Just cause a bit of chaos and they might inflict enough damage on each other as a result. And then taking down the big center empire, my father's, would be a huge blow. A lot of people are eager to get rid of the empires and would jump on the chance to fight back. The fall of my father's empire would be that chance. Maybe."

Half an hour more of talking finally resulted in the beginnings of a tentative plan. They would focus their attention on sabotaging the workhouses where her father's magical items were made. Causing chaos like that would cause a ripple effect and, hopefully, catch the attention of those stuck under her father's thumb. Dean was eager to go after those higher up in her father's hierarchy; the ones who helped keep people under control. She was reluctant about the idea, both unnerved at his excitement to go on a killing spree and also nervous about having to face another witch. But she knew she couldn't say no, only go along for whatever ride the Winchesters deigned to take her on.

Her opportunity to get rid of Amon was quickly dwindling away. The task of trying to deal with her father's empire would require her help, and she needed her abilities to be of any use. She was worthless without them, not knowing how to fight and her spell repertoire only extending to defensive spells. The idea of waiting frustrated her but she kept it under control. She had a lot of experience in patience. With a lifetime of waiting already behind her, she was willing to wait just a little bit more.

A yawn escaped her and she leaned back again, letting Sam and Dean continue talking between each other. Their low voices lulled her and it was difficult staying awake. They were talking about hunting and looked her way every so often. She realized she should probably pay attention if what they were talking about involved her somehow, but her brain refused to focus. All the planning had exhausted her just by thinking of everything she would have to do. _And just a day or so ago I was still sitting in a motel room, free_. The thought made her slightly bitter. Before she knew it her head tipped back and her eyes fluttered shut. She drifted off to sleep in her chair, her shoulders slumping under the weight that had now settled on them.


	11. Chapter 11

"Pip. Pip. Wake up."

"Mm?" Pip woke to a voice calling her and a hand gently shaking her shoulder. She garbled out an incoherent response. Her tongue felt too large for her mouth and didn't cooperate with what she wanted to do. "Wha?"

"Pip." The shaking increased slightly. The hand was a very large and warm presence on her shoulder.

She wanted to do anything but wake up. Her eyes felt as if weights kept them closed. She groaned at the voice, refusing to open them. _Let me sleep, let me sleep_.

Her shoulder felt cold when the hand removed itself and she sighed contentedly. There was a murmur of voices and she allowed herself to slowly drift back to sleep, believing that they had given up.

"Get. _Up._ "

Suddenly her chair was yanked backwards and before she knew it she was falling. Instincts kicked in and she ducked into a somersault, landing in a crouch. In a panic her mind whipped out at the nearest target, and before she could pull it back it launched the person up into the air, pressing them against the ceiling. Shouts rang out and she looked around in a panic, her brain struggling to keep up after the jarring wake-up.

"Put him down."

Her eyes settled on Dean who now had a gun pointed directly at her. _Is this a dream?_ she thought, her mind barely comprehending the rapid turn of events.

Dean cocked the gun, his eyes burning a hole into her deeper than a bullet would. "Put him down or I will shoot you, gut you, and then string you up, so help me."

She looked up and saw that her mind had grabbed onto Sam and thrown him against the ceiling. He struggled in her grip, his hands near his throat as if he were choking. _I really hope this is a dream_.

"You have three seconds." Dean's voice went dangerously low.

Some part of her wanted to resist. It told her that it would be very easy to just yank the gun out of Dean's hand and point it at him instead. She could turn the situation around in a matter of seconds. She was sick of having to get into the passive role when she knew she was much more powerful than that. _They have no idea what I'm capable_ of _. They would be very easy to kill_. As soon as she thought that she snapped out of whatever reverie she was in. She resisted that part of her, pushing it as far down as it would go until she couldn't hear its voice anymore. Very slowly she pulled her mind back, lowering Sam to the floor. He struggled as he went down and it was difficult holding on to him. When she released him he stumbled backwards, coughing. Slowly she lifted her hands up in surrender, ducking her head submissively. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper and she hoped he couldn't hear the slight tremor in it. She wasn't sure if it was because she was scared of him or herself.

Suddenly Dean fired the gun and she leapt back, crawling away in a panic. A bullet hole appeared in the floor next to her and she nearly cried in relief.

"The next time you so much as poke my brother I will kill you. I will not hesitate. Don't think for one second you get to live because of your father."

She could barely hear him over the pounding of her heart. Dean didn't wait for a response from her before he finally lowered the gun and stalked back towards the middle tables, shoulders tense.

Pip collapsed backwards, lying on the floor as her breath came out in short, panicked gasps.

 _Good to see you're awake now_.

Pip's temper flared up at Amon's snide voice. She screwed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, fighting back the urge to scream out loud at him. _I am not in the mood_ , she said, hating how childish she sounded.

 _No one cares about your moods, princess._

She sat up, swallowing a retort. Whatever furious expression she knew she had on her face faded when she saw Sam. Dean hovered around his brother, examining him for any injuries. Pip forced herself to her feet and shuffled as close as she dared. "Is he alright?" she asked.

Dean turned, looking ready to explode until Sam put a hand on his arm. "Dean, relax," he said. "It's fine." He rolled his shoulders and neck as if working out a sore muscle.

She examined his throat from a distance and was relieved to see there wasn't any visible damage. As for everywhere else... she couldn't know and probably would never know if Dean had any say in it.

After the morning incident the rest of the day felt like floating in limbo. The brothers spent their time together while she kept out of their way. She explored as much of the bunker as she dared, even managing to find the kitchen area. She didn't open any closed doors. When she ran out of exploring space she went back into the main room, poking around at the books and items stacked on the shelves. Every so often she could feel Dean's gaze drilling into her but she refused to look at him. If she saw him in the hallways he would glare, shooting silent threats until she passed. If she thought Dean's treatment of her had been bad before, this was worse. _Although I guess I deserve it this time_ , she thought, an image of Sam pressed against the ceiling flashing in her head. _At least he's not pointing guns_.

After a few hours of drifting around restlessly she realized she was starving. She'd skipped breakfast, for obvious reasons. Putting down the book she'd been paging through she headed towards the kitchen. She rifled around for a while, not sure what she was looking for. The thought of burgers made her stomach growl and mouth water. _If I'm still alive when this is over, I'm going to get as many burgers as I want and eat until I'm sick_.

Her search eventually yielded a bag of potato chips, and she recognized the food as something her father would give her sometimes. He was a big fan of foods that didn't require cooking and came in convenient packaging. Not for himself, of course. Just for her. She dug into the bag, leaning against the fridge as she munched away quietly. Her eyes fluttered shut as she got lost in thought.

"What are you doing?"

The sudden voice made her drop the bag with a surprised shout. Automatically she clamped down on her mind, not wanting to go through the same situation again at all. At least she was getting better at it.

Dean stood at the doorway to the kitchen, staring at her.

She panicked, swooping down to try and pick up the spilled bag of chips. The more she tried to clean it up, the more the chips spilled out of the bag. "Sorry, sorry," she stammered. "I got hungry, I didn't know what I'd be allowed to eat. I found this bag-" She struggled to clean, stumbling over herself like a foal just learning how to walk. Words spilled out of her as she rambled on. When she'd gotten most of the mess off the floor she clamped her mouth shut, staring at Dean with the now empty bag crumpled in her hand. _It's amazing_ , she thought, _just a while ago I was talking as if I could kill these two easily. Now I can barely move without falling over myself and making a mess_.

Dean watched the whole ordeal impassively. When he was certain she was finished he finally spoke. "Sam and I are going hunting. There's a case close by."

"Oh, okay," she replied. _Hunting..._

He looked at her expectantly. When she didn't say anything else it changed to frustration. "You're coming too."

"What?" She nearly dropped the bag again. "Why?" She recoiled slightly when his face hardened.

"If it were up to me we would stick you in the dungeon and leave you there."

Pip couldn't suppress a shudder. _Dark room. Angry face._

"But Sam thinks we need to learn to cooperate better. And that you need more practice with your... mind-thing." He waved a finger near his head. "So you're coming with."

"Alright," she nodded slowly, unable to stop a surge of excitement at the thought of going hunting. She had been endlessly curious about what exactly the Winchesters did. She went to follow Dean but stopped when he took a step towards her.

"I will be watching you," he said, his voice a warning.

She tried to reply but the words caught in her throat and she only nodded. When he finally turned away she sighed a bit in relief, shoulders sagging.

"And we'll eat on the way," he said over his shoulder.

She stopped in surprise before a grin spread across her face. Maybe it wasn't so bad after all.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Finally got around to making a cover for the story. Originally I wasn't going to have Sam and Dean in the picture but then I got ambitious. Unfortunately you can't see much of the details (like the rose on her palm), and I had to crop it, but oh well. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story. :)**

* * *

A few hours later Pip found herself in the Winchester's car again, battling the nausea that roiled around in her gut. The brothers sat in the front as usual, dressed in the suits that she had first met them in. Watching them prepare for a hunt was like watching a well-oiled machine. They'd double-checked the trunk of the car, which she discovered was chock-full of multiple guns and weapons, among other things. She, of course, was not given a gun, and Dean had even shot her a warning look as if she would dive in and shoot them both.

"You're going to be our assistant," Dean had told her. "Just keep your mouth shut the whole time. Don't say anything, don't do anything. Just follow us."

 _Wouldn't make me much of an assistant_ , she thought.

Sam had given her a more reassuring "you'll be fine".

The brothers believed a vampire was running around somewhere in Iowa. Apparently a vampire was their idea of an easier case, though to Pip vampires sounded far from simple. She'd been given a brief rundown on them; fangs, blood, beheading, etc. The whole process seemed very messy and risky. Overall she felt ill-prepared and anxious, but intrigued at the same time.

After two more hours Pip regretted the food that she'd eaten along the way. When Dean finally pulled the car over, she jumped out and stretched happily, her mind stretching as well. After shaking herself out a bit more she looked around, noticing the scene around her. They were on a road surrounded by woods and she wasn't alone with the Winchesters. There was a crowd of people milling about, ducking under yellow tape and talking.

She turned to see the brothers walk up behind her. "Is this where we find the vampire?" she asked Sam.

"Keep your voice down," Dean whispered sharply. "What did I say about keeping your mouth shut?"

She recoiled slightly.

"This is just the crime scene," Sam said to her. "We're going to look here and at the body to make sure it was killed by a vampire. It's doubtful the vampire will be here."

Pip followed the brothers as they approached what she assumed was a police officer. The man, Officer Denver according to his badge, was a short, round and bald man who constantly wiped at his forehead with a kerchief despite the chilly weather outside. When he spotted Pip and the brothers he straightened, puffing himself up and tucking the kerchief away.

"Evening, officer," Dean said. "Agent DeYoung and my partner, Agent Shaw." The brothers both pulled out badges, flashing them to Officer Denver.

The officer peered at the badges closely, glancing up at the brothers every so often as if searching for a mistake. After a few moments he finally relented and then turned to her, raising an expectant brow. "And her?"

"Our assistant," Sam said.

Officer Denver waited for more of an explanation, but Sam and Dean did not offer one, and neither did she. He looked at her oddly, and she realized how disheveled she looked. She was still wearing several-days-old dirty clothes and hadn't taken a shower in a long time. She fidgeted slightly under his gaze. Silence filled the space for several moments until Sam finally broke it.

"So, we'd like to see the crime scene," Sam said, clearing his throat.

Officer Denver refused to move for a few seconds until finally he turned, dragging his feet. The brothers exchanged a look before following.

"The... scene was found earlier this morning by a jogger. He apparently heard a noise." Officer Denver gestured for them to follow him. "He went to investigate and found this." He led them deeper into the tree line. The place looked as if a tornado had gone through. Plants were ripped out of the ground and trees knocked over. Pip stepped lightly around one of the fallen trees, the scene eerily similar to the one she woke up to just a few days ago. As she moved, something on a nearby tree caught her eye. She looked closer, squinting. _Oh. Blood._ She looked around and suddenly noticed that the stuff was spattered everywhere, painting the forest. Her nose wrinkled and she hurried after Sam and Dean.

"The body was found here." Officer Denver finally halted and gestured to the ground, wiping his forehead again with his kerchief. There was a roped off area of the forest where she assumed the body had previously been, blood pooled at the center. Sam and Dean crouched by the area, examining it. Pip obediently stayed off to the side, looking around the area.

"Has there been anything similar before?" Dean suddenly asked.

Officer Denver shot him a queer look. "No, of course not. Just this one. Should there be?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Just wanted to make sure, cover all the bases," Dean said smoothly. "Was the body identified?"

"You'd have to check with the coroner," Officer Denver. He looked as if he was eager to leave the three of them.

"We'll make sure to do that, thank you for your time." Sam smiled at him. The three of them turned away, walking back to the car.

When they were farther away, the brothers finally spoke.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Sam asked, his voice low.

"It doesn't look like a vampire anymore," Dean said. He opened the car door and squinted at the tree line they went into just a few yards away. "Not with blood everywhere like that. Werewolf, maybe?"

Sam shook his head. "Full moon already passed."

Pip looked between them in bewilderment as they spoke. It felt as if they'd forgotten she existed. They continued to argue for a few minutes.

"Well let's go see the body at least, Dean," Sam said, "before we try to guess what it is."

Dean merely grunted in response and got in the car. Sam shot her a quick half-smile before getting in as well.

Half an hour later she found herself standing in front of the body, surrounded by the brothers. It had been surprisingly easy getting in; Sam and Dean had simply flashed their badges again. She made a mental note to try and get her hands on one eventually. It seemed they came in handy.

The body lay stretched out in front of them, an ugly sight. The skin was covered in thick gashes and tears. A chunk of the throat was torn out, with bite marks marring the flesh. She stared at it impassively. As long as it wasn't about to attack her, she didn't care.

Sam and Dean poked around at the body, making comments to each other every so often. She faded into the background again.

"Still a heart, so definitely no werewolf," Sam said, looking up at his brother.

"Fine, fine," Dean said, holding up his hands. "But the blood's not completely drained, so it's not a vamp."

"Ghoul, maybe?"

While they talked Pip quickly became bored. She shouldn't have been worried earlier, it seems. She glanced at the brothers again, checking to see if they were still talking. Seeing that they were, she started to wander around the room. There was a window nearby that led to what looked like another office. She peered inside curiously, pressing her nose against the glass.

Suddenly a face appeared on the other side, staring back at her.

She jumped back, banging into the table behind her with a loud clang.

"Pip?"

She turned to see the Winchesters staring at her. She forced her breath to slow, lowering her arms had that been raised defensively.

"Sorry. I stumbled a bit." She patted the table and tried to put it back in its original position. She didn't want to mention the face, in case she'd just been seeing things that weren't there.

"Uh, alright. Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"No worries," she said quickly, already wishing they would forget she was there again.

"Well we're going to head out to a motel now. We'll probably get something to eat and then figure out our next step." It didn't sound as if they'd gotten any closer to figuring out what they were looking for.

When the brothers turned away she risked a look over her shoulder, peering into the office behind her. It was empty, no sign of whoever or whatever she'd seen. A shiver shook its way up her spine and down her arms. Maybe she was going crazy. She hurried after the brothers, eager to leave.


	13. Chapter 13

Pip stared up at the warehouse nervously. It was cold and gray and uninviting; very similar to the bunker. Empty windows stared down at her like beady black eyes. A cold breeze brushed itself over her bare arms and down her neck, making her shiver. She tugged her sleeves over her arms as they prickled with goosebumps.

Just an hour or so earlier she had been sitting comfortably in a warm motel room. When they'd first arrived, Sam and Dean had argued over whether or not she would get her own room. Dean didn't want to let her out of sight, Sam believed she had a right to her own privacy. She'd made the mistake of interrupting to give her own input, which Dean responded to with a withering glare. She didn't attempt to do so again after that. Eventually it was decided she would sleep in the same motel room somewhere on the floor. Sam seemed insulted on her behalf, but she didn't really mind. As much as she was scared of the two brothers, she felt safer with them nearby. They didn't want her dead yet, and she had to believe they would keep her safe.

Apparently they'd learned that the man who was killed was last seen at this warehouse. Who would see him in such an isolated area, she had no idea, but she didn't question the brothers about it. She could only hope it would be as empty as it looked.

"Like I said before," Dean said, slamming the car's trunk closed, "don't say anything, don't do anything. Just follow us." He stared at her until she nodded and then checked his gun's cartridge. Satisfied, he shoved it back in and then tucked some type of sword into his belt. After adjusting he started towards the warehouse.

Sam followed close behind, shoulders tense. Pip followed the brothers, glancing around nervously again. The sun just barely poked up out of the horizon, its last few beams beginning to fade away. According to the brothers, this was a good time to go vampire hunting, even if there was a big possibility it wasn't a vampire anymore.

The entrance to the building yawned in front of her and then swallowed her whole, throwing her into darkness. Sam and Dean flicked on their flashlights, the beams slicing through the dark. Pip bit back a curse as she tripped over something, barely catching herself before she fell.

"Here." She felt Sam's hand latch on to hers, pressing a flashlight into her palm.

She mumbled a thank you and flicked it on.

"Sam, Pip," Dean called ahead. She hurried after them.

He led them farther into the warehouse. She tilted her flashlight up, looking at the metal walkways jutting out overhead. Moving shapes danced at the edge of her vision, making her even more jumpy. Suddenly a loud sound broke the silence and she jumped, flashlight dropping out of her hands.

"Sorry," Sam said. He held a flashing object in his hands, loud crackles emanating from it. "EMF Detector, tells us if ghosts are here."

"Ghosts?" she muttered incredulously, reaching for her flashlight.

"Yeah. Just in case." He shrugged.

She shook her head at herself. Apparently being on the run put her on edge. She touched the pouch in her pocket for reassurance. Then she shook herself out, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. When she felt her heart rate slow she opened them again.

A few yards away two eyes stared back, glowing in her flashlight beam. When it saw her staring it grinned, its teeth flashing in the light. Pip froze, glancing around for the brothers.

"Sam? Dean?" she called.

"Pip?" one of them called back, the voice farther away.

"There's-" Her voice was cut off when whatever she found threw itself at her. She tumbled backwards, flashlight flying out of her hand again and going out when it hit the ground. She shouted, clawing at whatever clung to her. It didn't relent, pushing her back until she hit the wall, air whooshing out of her lungs. Her mind reared up, latching on to the creature and throwing it back. The thing flew back with a howl, vanishing into the dark.

Pip scrambled up, panting. Her eyes flickered around, searching for any sign of the creature's return. When nothing appeared she glanced at her arms. There were thick gashes along her arms from where the creature had clawed at her, blood seeping out of them. They looked similar to the gashes on the dead man.

"Pip? Where are you?" A beam of light flickered nearby as Sam and Dean called out.

"Here," she called back, her voice hoarser than she intended.

Sam and Dean materialized after a few moments and she squinted at their lights.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, glancing at her arms.

"Yeah. Just be careful, it ran off somewhere."

A sudden scraping sound nearby caught her attention, and her mind reached out reflexively. It clamped on to the source of the noise, dragging it towards her. "I think I've got it," she whispered, as if saying it aloud might let it escape.

Sam and Dean pulled out their guns, pointing them in the direction she faced. The creature struggled against her pull as it was finally dragged into the light.

"A human?" Pip blinked in surprise, her mind's grip on the creature loosening slightly.

It lunged when her grip relaxed, heading for Dean. The brothers jumped back, lifting their guns. She tightened her grip again, throwing it back down on to the ground. She glared and pressed down harder with her mind. It hissed loudly at her.

It mostly looked human, except for a sharp set of fangs that it was now baring at her. Red eyes glowered at her, glowing slightly. She looked up at the brothers for an explanation, but they looked just as confused as she did.

"The hell is this thing?" Dean said, taking a step closer and crouching down. The thing growled at him, snapping its teeth like a dog.

"I... I've no idea," Sam said. "It's got fangs like a vamp."

"And the eyes?" Pip asked.

"No clue," Dean said. "But we can find out of it dies like a vamp." He pulled out the sword he had tucked into his belt.

The creature thrashed harder at the sight of the weapon. She grit her teeth, struggling to keep it down. Suddenly it broke free again, charging at Dean with a roar. Pip spread her feet and threw out a hand, her mind reaching out and throwing the creature to the side. Enraged, it quickly changed direction, advancing towards her. The two of them tumbled back again, its claws scraping at her chest and arms. When they stopped falling it clutched at her throat, pressing her to the ground. She scrabbled at the hand, gasping for air. It grinned down at her, fangs glinting. Panicked, Pip yanked harder at the hand gripping her. Her mind tugged at the creature, but it didn't budge. It lunged at her throat, mouth wide.

All of a sudden the head fell, landing on her chest. She stared in bewilderment until she realized that it was dead. She quickly sat up, pushing the thing off of her. The head rolled away, its red eyes glassy. Its mouth still hung open. She stared at it for a few moments before looking up at the brothers. Dean held his hand out to her and she took it gratefully. When she stood she looked down at herself. She was covered in blood, both her own and the creature's.

"You good?" Dean asked, his voice gruff.

"Yeah." She picked at her bloody shirt. "Thanks."

"You too."

The brothers spent a while poking around at the body, examining it. Finding a hospital tag on its wrist, they cut it off and tucked it away. After they were satisfied, they burned the body. "Just in case," they said. She watched the whole process detachedly, hands in her pockets. The whole thing had gone better than she'd expected, minus a few cuts. She would have to keep her arms bandaged for a while so the brothers wouldn't notice them healing faster. Or she could pretend she had a healing spell, though she was reluctant to mention anything about spells to the Winchesters.

After the body burned for a few minutes the brothers finally headed back to the car, and she followed. The brothers still had no idea what the creature was, but they were sure that the case was over and they planned to head back to the bunker in the morning. Surprisingly, she was disappointed. The ending of the case felt anti-climactic, and she wasn't eager to go on to the next step of going after her father.

"Hurry up, pipsqueak." Dean's voice broke her out of her thoughts.

She hurried out of the building towards where the brothers waited in the car. She glanced back at the warehouse, an uneasy feeling rising up inside her. Something didn't feel right. She shook herself out again, pushing the thought out of her mind. _Forget it_. She ducked into the car, relaxing into the seat as the engine rumbled under her.


	14. Chapter 14

Pip balanced the remote in the air, her mind carefully gripping the bottom of it. It wobbled back and forth precariously and her mind constantly shifted about to keep it upright. She couldn't remember how long she'd been doing this. Years of practice made it easy for her to slip into a specific mindset where time faded away. It made things painless, being able to lose track of time when you wanted to.

The brothers and her arrived at the motel room a while ago. Sam insisted on taking care of her arms, but she managed to convince them she could take care of it. The wounds were still open and bleeding, but she knew they would start to heal quickly. They just needed time. She took a shower and wrapped her arms up haphazardly, telling herself she would just make sure to keep them in sleeves for a while. It was too much work wrapping them up properly.

Dean had left during this to get her new clothes to replace her now ragged and bloody ones, a job he'd been very unhappy about. The two of them argued about who would go and eventually performed some sort of strange hand gesture thing at each other, which somehow resulted in Dean being the one chosen to go. Sam had given her an old sweatshirt in the meantime. The thing was so large on her she basically wrapped herself up in it like a giant blanket. But it was cozy and warm and smelled nice, so she curled up in it at the foot of one of the beds.

While they waited, Sam sat nearby, tapping away at a laptop. Silence hung heavy between the two of them but she didn't mind. Every so often he would glance over at her, watching. At first it unnerved her but after a while she got used to it. She made a game of it with the remote by counting how long she could balance it with Sam's glances as markers. The most she'd gotten was up to five glances before she eventually stopped keeping time, just automatically picking the remote back up again if it tipped over.

 _This is so dull_. Amon's voice made the remote fall over, hitting the carpeted floor with a quiet thud.

Pip realized now that she hadn't heard him speak very much the past few days. The Winchesters made him quieter for whatever reason. She picked the remote up again, spinning it in the air with her mind. _We could sing songs_ , she replied.

 _How juvenile_.

 _We could gossip about crushes on boys_.

She could sense his lips curl up in a sneer. _You have an all-powerful, ancient demon inside you and all you focus on is singing and gossip._

 _You're an all-powerful, ancient pain in the ass_.

Amon's anger seethed up in a silent roar, scorching her mind. The feeling of it prickled at the back of her head, sliding down her neck. Images of what he would have done to her if he were free trickled into her head, pooling and blending together. She had no idea what made her willingly stoke his anger. Normally she just ignored him. Maybe she felt braver, curled up securely in warm clothes with Sam nearby, even if she knew how silly it was to think that way.

Amon's anger still burned inside her head. As she felt it she realized how strange it was that he'd gotten so upset at her comment. Normally he didn't care what she said that much; in his eyes she was just a stupid girl.

 _I will be sure show you just how stupid you are when I am finally free_.

His voice sounded different than it normally did and she felt a icy prickle of fear crawl its way down her spine, clutching at her heart.

"Pip!" Sam's startled voice made her jump.

"What?" She blinked in surprise as she saw him stand up and move towards her, his expression concerned.

"Your arm. I thought you said you would take care of it."

She looked down to see dark red blotches seeping through Sam's sweatshirt. "What..." She rolled the sleeves up and held her arm out. The bandages were soaked through with blood, and in the places where she didn't wrap properly red beads of blood dripped through onto the motel floor. "It shouldn't be like this, they shouldn't be bleeding." Her voice sounded hollow as she stared at her arms stupidly.

"It's no wonder." Sam was already unwrapping the bandages on the one arm. "You didn't even clean them out or wrap them up properly." He cursed under his breath at the sight, running his hand through his long hair. "Come here." He tugged her up by the elbow, leading her to the bathroom. She obediently followed, still staring at her arms in confusion.

When they entered the bathroom Sam started to pull the sweatshirt off her shoulder. She pulled away immediately, bumping into the sink. "Don't worry," he said, holding his hands up. "I just need to work on your shoulders too. I'm pretty sure I saw you got cut there."

She shook her head wildly, inching away a bit more.

"Pip, I'm not going to do anything, I promise. But your arms really need looked at. You can just cover yourself in the front with my sweatshirt." His expression looked worried.

As a response she only silently rolled up her sleeves as high as they would go. She knew the scars on her back extended from her lower neck and upper shoulders all the way to almost her rear end. Even if Sam saw just a little bit of the symbols carved onto her skin, there would be too many questions that would follow. When the sleeves wouldn't roll up any more she held both her arms out willingly, looking up at him. The sight was still gory and he sighed again, clearly frustrated.

"Fine," he said simply.

She stood still as Sam worked on her arms, wincing slightly at the stinging antiseptic.

"These are deep," he said apologetically. She only grunted in response, frowning at the gashes.

When he was finished wrapping them up he examined them again, picking up her arms to turn them over as if she were a doll and he was posing her. Amon's anger simmered, spreading itself down to her fingertips. When she felt it she suddenly didn't want Sam touching her and snatched her arm away, clutching it to her chest. Sam's brow furrowed but he didn't say anything, instead he began to put supplies away.

She started to turn away, ready to take her position by the bed again.

"Pip." Sam's voice stopped her. She leaned against the doorway, bracing herself. He didn't say anything for a few moments and the silence echoed loudly between them. "I wanted to say thank you. You helped Dean more than once at the warehouse even though he hasn't been very... warm to you. He doesn't trust you, and to be honest I would be lying if I said I trusted you." He paused and she hunched her shoulders as if protecting herself. "But I don't care what you've done to me as long as you keep him safe, like you did at the warehouse. At least let me trust you with that."

She winced and was grateful that her back was what faced him. If she thought the silence was loud before it was nearly deafening now, the weight of his words ringing in her head. "He is lucky to have family like you," she said finally, her voice barely audible. It was impossible for someone like her to keep a promise like that. The unsaid threat of what would happen if she did break Sam's trust with that floated in her head, the familiar gun pointed at her. "Sorry for ruining your sweatshirt," she said a bit louder. "And thank you for... this." She lifted an arm. Shaking his words off of her, she walked out of the bathroom.

Dean walked in just then, several bags in one hand. When he saw her he held the bags up and then tossed them on one of the beds. "Here," he said roughly. "Sam, where are you?"

While Sam responded, Pip moved to the bed, eager to get changed into different clothes.

"The hell happened here?" Dean stared at the small bloodstains on the motel carpet, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked up at her, his eyes flicking to the similar stains now on Sam's sweatshirt.

"Sorry," she said, forcing herself to look at the clothes she pulled out of the bags instead of him. "Messy cleanup." She gestured towards one of her arms.

Dean gave an uninterested grunt and looked towards the bathroom. Sam appeared, looking at the clothes that she had scattered on the bed.

"Dean," Sam said, his voice exasperated. "What are these?" He walked towards the bed.

"The clothes," Dean replied, glancing at the bed in confusion. "Why?"

"These are terrible." Sam picked up one of the shirts that was decorated with bright pink animal print and black lace trimming. It was a skimpy top that would barely cover her, and she knew she would never be able to wear it.

"What? It's girl clothing."

Sam shot him a look as he dug through the other clothing.

"Well no time to be freakin' picky, another body was found," Dean said.

"What?" Sam's head shot up.

"Same gashes as the first dude. Except this time they're saying the blood's been completely drained."

Sam's brow furrowed again. "So there's two of them? Whatever those creatures are."

"Guess so." Dean turned towards the door. "Let's go." He looked at Pip as if he'd forgotten she was there. He stared quietly at her for a few moments as if deciding something, his lips pursed. "Get changed," he said after a while. "You're coming too."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: School's almost done for me so I'm hoping that I'll have more time to write as long as my brain cooperates with creativity and the holidays aren't too busy. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed/favorited to story so far. Your kind words mean so much to me and make my day! And again any reviews/critiques/tips are greatly appreciated; I'm always trying to improve my writing.**

* * *

Pip stood behind Sam and Dean at the crime scene, picking at the long red sweatshirt she found herself wearing. It was a bit too big on her, but for her that was a good thing. _Plus the red's pretty_ , she thought, examining the sleeves. _Won't be too bad if it gets a bit of blood on it_.

Finding suitable clothes to wear out of the selection Dean provided proved to be a difficult task. Most of them wouldn't cover her scars properly if she ever wanted to take off her jacket, and the ones that did ended up not being her size. Eventually she managed to compile a small bundle of clothes that seemed promising, including the red sweatshirt.

"Agents."

Pip looked up to see Officer Denver approaching the three of them, a sour expression twisting his face even as he tipped his head in polite greeting.

"And, er, assistant." He tilted his head at her as well. She returned the nod, mildly impressed at his manners despite his obvious dislike of them.

"What can you tell us?" Dean asked, taking a step closer to the body and peering down at it. It was a woman this time, her blond hair splayed around her and her head tilted back in a horrified gasp.

"Her name was Abigail Ryans, a college student. Her roommate says they were at a party together, Abigail went outside and disappeared after that until she was found here. We're starting to think there's some wild animal running around in the woods. She's got the same marks on her arms as the other guy and it looks like whatever it was chewed at her neck."

Dean snorted. "Always wild animals. Why would a wild animal drain her blood but leave the body behind?"

Officer Denver stiffened. "Unless you want to say there's a vampire running around, a wild animal's the best guess we've got. The teeth marks on her are certainly not human."

Sam raised his eyebrows, looking at Officer Denver. "Well, thank you for your help. We'll continue to look into this and let you know if we find anything." He pulled Dean out of the stare-down match he'd gotten into with Officer Denver, forcing his brother to walk with him. When they were a safe distance Dean yanked his arm away, grumbling.

"So," Sam said. "Any ideas?"

"Well," Dean said, reaching into his pocket. "We've got this thing." He pulled out the hospital tag that had been around the creature's wrist from before. "Whatever it was, it came from the hospital."

"Alright, we can check things out there." Sam climbed back in the car while Dean followed suit, complaining about Officer Denver under his breath. Pip stared at the girl for a while longer, her silent screaming burning into her memory before she finally turned away.

When they reached the hospital Pip had to practically jog to keep up with the brothers' long strides. They entered the hospital's front doors and the nurse at the front desk smiled at them.

"Hello again, agents. What can I help you with?"

Dean leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "Yeah, you had a patient here by the name of..." He looked down at the bracelet in his hand. "Ryan Watson. We'd like to see his files."

"Certainly, please wait here." She stood up and vanished into a nearby room.

"Here's hoping," Dean said under his breath. Sam only grimaced.

"Here you are." The nurse reappeared, files in hand. "Ryan Watson. He was released a few months ago after an athletic injury."

Dean mumbled a quick thanks before turning away, flipping through the folder.

"Ryan Watson, 19, played football for his university until he screwed up his shoulder in a game."

"'Screwed up his shoulder'?" Sam asked. "In what way?"

"I don't know," Dean said, his face twisted in annoyance. "It says a bunch of random words but then it says shoulder and it sounds like an injury."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Alright, just continue."

Dean huffed but continued. "He was brought here under the care of Dr. Hopkins." Dean fiddled with the papers, flipping through some more. "Says here there was a surprisingly quick recovery and he left after only a few days, completely healed." He flipped through the folder again. "So he was normal before he came here. Guessing this is the guy we gotta look for." Dean lifted up the papers, tapping a finger on the picture of the doctor.

Pip leaned forward, peering at the picture. It was the same face she saw in the morgue's window. She stiffened, staring at the familiar glasses and curly hair that had appeared on the glass. _So I wasn't crazy._ "I saw him before," she said, holding back a wince when both brothers looked at her. "At the morgue, he was there."

The both looked at each other until Dean spoke. "The room was empty except for us."

Her temper flared but she pushed it down. "There was another room, probably an office. I saw him in there and he... surprised me."

"So he's seen us and knows we're here," Sam said. Her shoulders slumped slightly, relieved that he believed her.

Dean cursed under his breath. "Well that doesn't help."

"Worth a try looking for him," Sam said.

Dean gave a short nod. "Yeah." He walked back to the front desk, placing an arm on the counter. "Where can we find Dr. Hopkins?"

"His office is on the second floor," the nurse replied. "I can call him and let him know you're looking for him."

"No need," Dean said. "Thanks." He gave another brisk nod and then took off. Pip hurried to keep up, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

When they reached the second floor Sam and Dean kept their hands hovering near the guns tucked away under their jackets, scanning the halls. Their anxiety seeped into Pip and her mind roiled in response, ready to jump at any movement.

"Here," Dean said, stopping in front of a door labeled with Dr. Hopkins's name. The brothers looked at each other before Dean reached out and knocked. "Dr. Hopkins? FBI."

A muffled "come in" drifted in from the other side, surprising Pip. Dean opened the door to reveal a clean office, barely filled sparse furniture and not much else. It looked as if someone had just moved in and didn't have anything to decorate with yet. The curtains were drawn shut, and only the little bit of light that leaked in and a small, dim lamp lit up the space. The light from the hallway behind them highlighted where Dr. Hopkins sat at a desk inside, scribbling away. When he looked up he pushed a curly mop of hair back. His glasses were wide and thick, making his eyes seem bigger than they actually were, which unnerved Pip.

"Ah, agents. I knew you would be coming eventually." He placed his pen down and stood up, stepping around the desk. "What can I help you with?"

"Ryan Watson," Sam said. The brothers were still tense, fingers twitching. "We'd like you to tell us about him."

Dr. Hopkins nodded and made a humming noise, leaning against his desk. "Ryan came in a while ago with an injury in his shoulder. The cartilage was severely torn, and it was unlikely he would be able to continue playing. He had placed his entire future on his football abilities and his injury signaled the end of it all at such a young age. Needless to say he was eager to search for any solution, any miracles, and I was happy to supply." Dr. Hopkins paused, adjusting his glasses. "Let me be clear, agents, I know very well what you both are just as you know what I'm not." He grinned at them and a row of fangs curled out from his mouth, glinting wickedly before they disappeared again. "As such there's no need to dance around the subject. I know your reason for coming here, though I have no intention of dying anytime soon."

The brothers twitched, their hands moving so fast their guns practically materialized in their hands. "And why shouldn't we kill you right now?"

Dr. Hopkins adjusted his glasses again. "We both know guns won't stop me and you don't have the proper weapons with you. Plus..." He straightened, clasping his hands behind him. "I'm working on something I believe you boys would be interested in."

Sam and Dean's eyebrows quirked.

"And what would that be?" Dean asked.

Dr. Hopkin's smile widened. "Let me show you."


	16. Chapter 16

Dr. Hopkins led them down the hospital hallway and shuffled them into an elevator for an incredibly long and awkward ride down. He inserted a key into the elevator and pressed the basement button, saying his research took place down there. Dean hadn't been thrilled in the slightest, and his hand danced near his gun as if it had a mind of its own. Sam was more collected as usual, though even his hand twitched for the sword he probably wished he had. Pip, for her part, twiddled her thumbs. Even though the "say nothing, do nothing" approach to the hunt was easier, she discovered it was boring. Her mind was eager to stretch again, and not to just lift a book up and down, but to _really_ let loose. The feeling of restlessness spread under her skin, her foot tapping out a muffled rhythm on the elevator floor until Dean glared at her. Fortunately Dr. Hopkins filled the silence.

"My work started many, many years ago with my family. I had a wife and two kids, typical sort of family and all that. I'd just gotten a job at the local hospital. Not this one, of course, since I didn't live here."

Dean's eyes rolled up, his head tilted back in a silent groan. Dr. Hopkins continued talking, unaware.

"My kids were young, one of them about to go into high school. The move was hard, as it usually is for kids their age. I can remember-"

"Dr. Hopkins," Sam cut in. "Mind fast-forwarding?"

Dean leaned in towards his brother. "Can I shoot him? I want to shoot him."

"Not in an elevator."

"So just wait until we're out, got it."

Sam shot a look at his brother but didn't respond.

"At that time I knew nothing about the, ah, supernatural or any of the creatures that existed," Dr. Hopkins said. He glanced at the brothers, seemingly annoyed at the interruption, and he adjusted his thick glasses.

At that moment the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened with a ding, revealing a darkened room beyond. Pip's nerves started to sing with tension, her muscles bunching. Despite the doctor's outwardly normal story, their location reminded her of their less-than-normal situation. Her heartbeat roared in her ears and her fingers twitched as she kept a tight hold on her mind. Something was making her anxious, and she wasn't sure what it was.

"So imagine my surprise when my family was soon attacked by vampires in our new town," Dr. Hopkins continued, striding out of the elevator with a surprisingly long gait for such a small man.

"I'm, uh, sorry to hear that," Sam said, following after him.

"Yeah, so sorry," Dean echoed, his voice flat.

"Yes, well, for whatever reason they decided to change my family into vampires rather than just use us as sustenance. And while the transformation had been difficult at first, we adjusted and survived, as is our nature to do. We lived that way for a while until we found more peaceful ways of living, using animal blood and whatever blood bags I could steal from the hospital. The nest wasn't happy with that decision, as they expected us to provide them with fresh human blood, but we managed to escape them to live our own lives. And for a period of time it worked." Dr. Hopkins stopped then, his shoulders stiff. "Until hunters came and slaughtered my family." His words were blunt and simple but they were painted with the anger that radiated from him. An echo of his wrath thrummed through her, making her nerves sing louder. They stood in silence for a few moments.

"What were the hunters' names?" Sam asked slowly.

Dr. Hopkins head suddenly whipped around to face them, dark eyes glittering behind his thick frames. "By the time I finished with them their names didn't matter."

The brothers' expressions darkened, and the three of them stared at each other, daring someone to make the first move. Sam and Dean's guns glittered in the low light as they slowly pulled them out of their holsters again.

"I've always hated hunters since then," Dr. Hopkins said, his voice thoughtful. "Wild animals, worse than the creatures they hunt. And just as stupid." His dark eyes flicked to the guns. "Go ahead and fire. I'll still be standing when you're finished, and you'll still be stuck down here with me." He flashed his fangs in a wide grin again.

"It's still three against one," Dean said, rolling his shoulders like he was prepping for a boxing match.

"Hmm," Dr. Hopkins said, his eyes moving to Pip. His mouth twisted into a wry smile, like he was laughing at a joke only he knew. "I didn't come to fight, even if I hate your kind." He started walking again, his figure fading as he moved farther into the darkened room. When he reached a pillar he pulled a switch, flooding the room with light. Pip squinted at the sudden brilliance and lifted a hand to block it. Several lab tables were scattered around the room, brimming with different chemicals and testing equipment. In the center of the room lay eight bodies, stretched out on metal tables. Pip would have assumed they were dead if not for the IVs attached to them and the steady rise and fall of their chests. Whatever the doctor's purpose, he wasn't doing much to instill an idea of good intentions for Pip.

"After my family's death I devoted much of my time to finding a cure for vampirism. Since, from what I understand, none of you believe in letting anything other than humans live in this world." Dean snorted at this but Dr. Hopkins ignored it. He walked towards the center of the room, hands clasped behind him. Sam and Dean didn't move to follow him, so Pip stayed safely tucked behind them. Some internal part of her was still humming with excitement, eager to break free despite her attempts to push it down.

"I believe vampirism is like a virus," Dr. Hopkins continued, standing near one of the bodies and resting a hand on the table. "And any virus can have a cure, and a vaccine. Using patients who had lost everything or were hoping for miracles, like our friend Ryan, I would test my formulas as vaccines and cures."

"So you would inject them with your chemical crap then try to turn them to see if it worked?" Dean asked.

Dr. Hopkins looked down at the patient near him, fiddling with the boy's robe. "Yes." He drew the word out in a long syllable, distracted. "And if it didn't, then I would try to see if the cure worked. I thought Ryan had been successful, which is why I released him to make sure."

"So you set him loose to see if he'd kill anyone," Sam said, in a low voice, flexing his hand on his gun.

"Precisely. And he was fine for a while until it went a bit awry. I'm not certain what went wrong, I need to do a bit more testing." The doctor moved his attention to a nearby table as if he'd already started thinking of a new solution. "I think the vaccine was too aggressive. I used a bit of my blood in it, along with a few other ingredients, in hopes that Ryan's body would build a resistance, as vaccines are supposed to do. Instead of that, I believe the vaccine pushed him past the vampire point and into something more... feral. He developed traits beyond what a vampire has, including the erratic behavior you saw and the glowing eyes. My theory is that the extra ingredients helped cause these added developments, but I can't be sure until I do more testing."

At this point the thrumming of nerves that Pip felt had built louder and louder until it roared in her ears. Every inch of her was screaming to lash out. She grit her teeth, sweat beading on her temple as she tried to push it all back down.

"This was what you thought we would be interested in?" Dean spat out. "Your sick experiments on innocent people?"

Dr. Hopkins's grin appeared again, his curly hair flopping down on his forehead. "No, my dear Dean. I know you are both simple-minded enough to not be interested in the bigger picture. But what you've failed to realize is that the vaccine still contains a virus. And the virus still remains contagious. If you haven't guessed already, blood is an excellent way for it to transfer." He turned his attention to Pip, grin wide. The roaring in her ears grew impossibly louder, deafening.

Sam and Dean both turned to look back at her and stiffened when they saw her.

"Pip... your eyes," Sam said slowly.

"What?" she grated out. She realized then that she was panting.

"They're glowing."


	17. Chapter 17

"Pip," Sam says, taking a step towards her with arm extended.

"Stop," she said quickly, matching his step with a backwards one. Her heartbeat still thundered in her ears and she could feel every pump of blood, rushing through her veins. In fact she could feel everyone's blood pumping and it unnerved her. Sam's movement triggered her mind to move and she struggled to pull it back. Instead of throwing him she felt it skitter over his skin, brushing him. Sam must have felt it too because he stopped moving and shuddered.

"Sam," Dean said, his voice low in warning.

She felt as if every bit of her body was bubbling with energy and it wanted to use it all up in any way possible. Violence was beginning to look like the main outlet, but she used whatever control she had left to stop herself from going that way. Well, at least not on Sam and Dean.

She zeroed in on the doctor, eyes wild. "So you cornered yourself down here with a person infected with a virus that makes them crazy and two hunters who have no feelings of affection toward you." She could feel Amon's anger pulsing under her skin again, pushing up out of her. "I'm guessing you were going to use a supposed cure for this virus as leverage because you believe Sam and Dean would never let a normal human die." She flexed her mind and could feel it sing with happiness. "But I am far from normal, and very keen to live." Her mind latched onto a nearby cabinet and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud clang, shards of glass tinkling as they hit the ground. She took a step towards the doctor, her lips curled back in a slight growl. "Where is the cure?"

The doctor matched her snarl with his own, his fangs coming out again. "Interesting..." he said, sizing her up.

Her mind lunged at him and she pulled it back at the last second, feeling it prod and hover over his skin as if a warning.

He pulled back, his skin twitching as if trying to shake her off. When he didn't give the response she wanted she took another step forward, lips curling back again. "Fine," he finally relented, jaw tight. He tilted his head towards one of the cabinets. "It'll be labeled 817." She grimaced. Fortunately that wasn't the cabinet she'd decided to toss around.

She forced herself to relax even though her pulse still roared and turned towards the cabinet. This was turning out much easier than she expected. Normally when she needed something from someone it required a lot more song and dance and persuasion. And, she was proud to say, she was doing a great job on keeping control of her-

From the corner of her eye she saw the doctor suddenly lunge at the brothers, hands hooked like claws and fangs flashing. The brothers met him with a shout and the three of them fell into a blur of motion, fighting. Her pulse picked up and she ripped open the cabinet, hurriedly searching for anything labeled 817. There was nothing. She turned towards the brothers in a panic, only to find the three of them still locked in a fight. Despite being outnumbered, the doctor had his hands around Dean's throat, his claws digging in. Sam had been tossed aside and struggled to get up. She felt her mind whip out and yanked the doctor backwards. He released Dean with a surprised screech, tipping backwards off of him. Dean took that chance to roll away, jumping back to his feet.

Pip turned back to the cabinet and searched desperately, tearing out different bottles and tossing them aside. "Nothing," she cried out after a while. _He lied, there is no cure_. Or, if there was, it wasn't labeled and she had no way of identifying it. Just as she was about to turn her anger on the doctor something slammed into her, knocking her to the side. She hit the wall hard and slid down, struggling to see her attacker. One of the bodies that had been stretched out on the table now stood before her, eyes glowing. She vaguely recognized it as the one Dr. Hopkins had been fiddling with while talking to them. It, or he, gave a low growl, his nostrils flaring as if he were smelling her. She scrambled to her feet, wincing as the world swayed. Despite the pain a thrill of excitement shot through her and she grinned at the boy.

The two launched at each other, tangling together in a flurry of claws and fangs. She felt her sweatshirt tear away, the creature's nails digging into her recently bandaged arms and ripping open her recent wounds. But she didn't feel the pain of it, focusing on fighting. Her desperation and anger fueled her and she realized she had no idea if she would ever get a cure. What would she be, then? _A witch, a demon, a vampire_ , she thought bitterly. She lashed out at the creature, throwing all of her anger into a punch that her mind followed through with, tossing the creature across the room.

She stood, panting. Her arms throbbed and she examined the old and new cuts on them. She was a mess.

The creature launched at her again and the two of them flew back into a cabinet, glass shattering behind her. She shoved the creature off of her and untangled herself from the wreckage.

"Pip!"

She turned to look at whoever shouted in time to see a hack saw tossed her way. Just as the creature lunged at her she caught it. She swung it around and her mind grabbed onto it, throwing more force into it. It imbedded itself half way through the neck and the creature fell back, spluttering and clawing at its throat. She dove on it and slammed the saw down, over and over, her fury building with every hit. The ringing in her ears built louder and louder until she couldn't hear anything else.

"Pip. Pip!"

The voice wormed its way into her head and she lowered the saw, breathing heavily. She could hear movement behind her and her head whipped around, coming to rest on the two men behind her. She couldn't remember who they were and why they were there, but there was a part of her that told her she wasn't supposed to hurt them. When she looked at them they stiffened, and she turned to look at her reflection in the glass door of another cabinet. Red eyes glowed back at her, burning into her. She looked down at herself again, the smell of blood wafting up to her. She couldn't remember it ever smelling that good.

"Pip, just hold still, okay?"

She whipped her head around again to see one of the men approaching her slowly, a flask filled with blood. He held his hand out to her as if to calm her down. She watched his approach warily, fingers tightening around the hack saw still clutched in her hand. She realized she could hear his heart pumping and his blood sloshing around in his veins. Mouth watering, she focused on the sound. As he got closer she was torn between biting into him to taste what was calling to her, attacking him with the saw, or doing what he said and sitting still.

"You need to drink this," he said, kneeling a bit away from her and extending the flask.

Her mouth watered more as she stared at it. She snatched it out of his hand and drank it greedily, licking the inside of the flask when it was gone. When she was finished she lowered the flask, staring at the man again.

"Will it work?" the other man asked.

She couldn't hear the response because the roaring in her ears suddenly erupted again, the burning under her skin returning. She threw her head back and cried out, the flask and saw dropping out of her hands. As the burning grew worse and worse she stared at the man accusingly, her glowing eyes narrowed at him. She snarled and reached out towards him, but the pain kept her from attacking. The burning sensation traveled up through her throat and she bent over, throwing up on the floor. Heat continued to simmer under her skin and she contorted with the pain, praying it would end. After minute or so it finally began to die down, the roaring in her ears dimming to a small hum. When it was finally over she rolled onto her side, pressing her cheek into the cool ground. She suddenly felt much colder.

"Pip?" She could hear Sam's concerned voice behind her.

"You good?" Dean asked.

She took a deep breath and then slowly sat up, running a hand through her now clumpy hair. "Yeah." Her voice was hoarse and it took a lot of effort to speak. "I'm good." Her mind struggled to remember where she was and what she was doing as she forced herself to get up, examining herself as she did so. Her body wasn't in as much pain as it looked like it should be. There were multiple wounds on her arms, extending over her shoulder and probably along her back as well. A few of the wounds that looked older started to heal, and she vaguely remembered her arms not healing before. She adjusted her torn sweatshirt so that it covered her arms better. Unfortunately the sweatshirt was too ruined to be used again and she silently mourned the loss. "What happened?" She could remember bits and pieces, starting from her time at the motel with Sam. But everything after started to blur together.

"You got infected with the vampire rabies thing, but we gave you the cure," Dean said.

"Oh." She blinked. "Thanks." _Guess that was why my arms wouldn't heal before_ , she thought, relieved that the problem was solved. She liked not having to worry about injuries all that much.

"Yeah, sure thing," Dean said, his voice dry. He looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest on Dr. Hopkins's body. "This is going to be a pain in the ass to clean up."

They spent the rest of the time waking up each body individually. They'd checked all of them, only to find they were all vampires. Deciding to try the cure on all of them, it became a system of Pip holding each creature down while Sam and Dean forced it to drink. The brothers had told her the cure only worked as long as the creatures didn't drink any other blood, and they were worried it might be too late for them. But fortunately the cure worked on every one of them.

Sam filled her in on everything as they worked on cleaning up the lab area and getting rid of the bodies of the doctor and the other boy. She grimaced as he spoke, dread curling in her gut. She was already on shaky ground with the brothers, and her being infected and nearly attacking them did not help her.

Pip was relieved when they finally left the hospital. It took a bit of sneaking in order to get out without being seen covered in blood. Once she got in the Winchester's car she finally relaxed, leaning back with a sigh. She wasn't sure she had recovered entirely from the reversion and every part of her felt drained.

Sam glanced back at her from the front. "It'll take a few days to feel better," he said as if reading her mind. "At least, that's how Dean's described it."

She looked at Dean in surprise. "You were a vampire?"

"Yeah," he said flatly.

She waited impatiently for him to elaborate, but he said nothing else. Disappointed, she sat back in the seat again. At this point she was just eager to sleep, and this time she didn't dread going back to the bunker.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Sorry this is so late! I ended up spending all my free time working on an endless line of commissions, and then I got Skyrim for Christmas which distracted me even more... Anyway, I finally got around to it and I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

The drive back to the bunker was a long one, though Pip stayed wide awake for the whole trip despite the late hours, exhausting day, and aftereffects of Dr. Hopkins's formula. She stared out the window while her leg bounced out the rhythm of her restlessness. Her hopes were that with Sam and Dean's "hunt" over the feeling of dread would dissipate. But she still felt as if something bad were hanging over her shoulder, ready to drop at any second. _Though I suppose I should be used to this feeling by now_ , she thought, imagining the few days she had of "freedom" before. She rubbed her forehead, trying to push away the ache that was beginning to settle there. Her car sickness was travelling from her gut to her head.

"Stop that," Dean said, his eyes glaring at her from the rearview mirror.

She froze in surprise, her hand hovering near her forehead. "What?"

"You're practically bouncing in your seat," he grumbled, turning his eyes back to the road. "It's annoying."

She forced her leg to stop bouncing and obediently settled down. Crossing her arms she resigned herself to staring out the window again.

When they finally reached the bunker Dean roused his brother from sleep with a walloping slap to the chest. Sam bolted awake, glaring at his brother once he realized where they were. Pip practically skipped around the brothers, happy to stretch her legs and hopefully shake off the buzzing energy she felt.

Amon finally got fed up her with her constant movement and complained, giving her a full-throttle mental drilling that nearly knocked her off balance before she pushed it down. Since the hunt had finished he had been pretending it never happened, probably embarrassed that he had been affected by whatever it was that Dr. Hopkins created. At least she hoped that was what made him so angry before. The burning rage she had felt from him affected her more than she liked.

Dean tossed a bag of gear on the bunker table once they were inside while Sam yawned and stretched, looking ready to go to bed.

"Sam, d'you think you could patch me up again?" Dean said, pulling off his shirt. One of the gauze wraps that peppered his shoulder and arm had small, bloody splotches bleeding through. "I think it opened up."

"Maybe it needs stitches instead," Sam said with another yawn. "I'll go get the kit."

Pip hesitated before chasing after Sam, taking an opportunity. When they were out of Dean's hearing range she tugged on his sleeve. "Sam, let me do it."

He shot her a quizzical look that turned into a pointed one. "You couldn't even do it on yourself properly."

"I'll do it right," she said quickly. "I just..." She trailed off, chewing on her lip. She wasn't sure how much to admit to Sam. Maybe she was being silly about the whole thing, or maybe she was trying to stop a sinking boat with a tiny cup. But either way she was stuck on the S.S. Winchester and they were quite possibly her last ticket to freedom from the island she had been stranded on for so long. Otherwise she would have to jump ship and risk drowning. "Dean doesn't like me very much," she finally continued. "He doesn't trust me, and you probably don't either. I don't blame you guys, you shouldn't trust me entirely." At the look Sam gave her she fumbled over her words. "I mean you _should_ , but I mean, you don't have to just _yet_ , at least not at first-." She took a deep breath. "The point I'm making is that I understand that trust is something earned, along with respect." When she said the words she winced internally, mentally chiding herself for quoting someone who was, quite possibly, the least trustworthy person she had ever met; her father excluded of course. "And I know you and your brother's trust in me is probably very low with recent events. I'm hoping this is a small way of earning some trust, or at least a start ," she finally finished, sucking in an expectant breath and holding it there once her speech was done.

Sam studied her quietly for a few seconds before giving a tired shrug. "Whatever. Just do it right." He gave her another pointed look before reaching into a closet nearby and pulling out a black bag. "Here. You sure you know how to stitch it up?"

She blinked in surprise at his easy permission before snapping out of it and nodding.

Sam returned her nod and then turned away. She watched him go for a few seconds before speaking up again. "Thanks, Sam," she said. He gave a tired grunt in response.

Dean looked up when she returned and, seeing it wasn't Sam holding the bag, shook his head. "No, no no. Turn around." He leaned back in his seat until his wounded shoulder hit the backrest and he leaned forward again with a slight wince.

Pip gripped the bag in both hands, wringing the handle. "Please, Dean, I want to help."

Dean gave a low snort. "Like you helped Sam?" He tried crossing his arms until that made him wince again and he dropped them to the side awkwardly.

Pip gave out a slight huff of frustration. "Yes, well, Sam's already gone to sleep so you're stuck with me unless you want to try sleeping like that," she retorted. She regretted the words the instant she said them.

"Easy decision," Dean said, standing up and reaching for his shirt.

"Wait, wait," she said quickly, taking a step forward and holding her hands up. "Please, let me do it. I'm trying to make things up to you and this is the only way I know how right now." _Besides, you and your brother forced me to be here_ , she couldn't help adding silently.

Dean rolled his eyes and fell back down into the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fine, whatever, if it'll get you to shut up and let me go to sleep."

Pip hurried forward, hoping to finish before he changed his mind. He sat quietly while she worked, barely twitching. She was grateful this was one of the few things she knew how to do. It was pure luck she learned in the first place, but it helped to be able to patch people up whenever she was out doing her father's business. Though the last time last time she did some medical care on anyone but herself was a long while ago. _Fortunately I still remember what to do_ , she thought, carefully guiding the thread through.

She couldn't help staring at his back while she worked. It was dotted with a number of scars. Not as much as her, but still a concerning amount. Each one spoke of a different fight, and she tried to imagine how long Sam and Dean had been hunters. _I know nothing about them_ , she thought, pulling another stitch through. After a few moments she worked up the courage to speak.

"How long have you and Sam been hunting?" she asked quietly.

Dean didn't respond and she scolded herself for being nosy.

"Almost our whole lives," he finally said, his low voice rumbling.

 _Like me_ , she thought in surprise before correcting herself. _No, not like me. They have been doing good for their whole lives while I have not_.

"So your parents taught you?" she asked, happy that he was talking at least.

"Our dad did." His shoulders tensed up as he spoke, making it difficult for her to stitch. She paused, laying a hand on his shoulder reflexively to try and get him to relax. He flinched away from her touch and she recoiled.

"Sorry," she mumbled after a few moments of awkward silence. "It's just that you need to relax your muscles. Difficult to get this closed when they're bunched up. I'll stop talking."

He grunted and relaxed again, his head dipping lower. "Hurry up then. I don't like this."

She threaded another stitch through, hating the sick feeling settling low in her gut. _Monster,_ a memory chanted in her head. She could practically hear the water rushing around her as the ship went down. When she finally pulled the last stitch through she quickly cut Dean free, eager to be done. Dean seemed just as impatient as he stood up and yanked on his shirt. Without a word he vanished deeper into the bunker. Pip silently put the supplies back in the bag, regretting her decision to try and help.

She stood for a few moments in the silence, staring at the black bag in her hands. _What was I even thinking?_ she thought. Half of her wondered if she was giving up too soon, and the other half wondered why she ignored all the times she had been wrong about them before. _I'm being dramatic_ , she told herself. _I've been with them for less than a week, and this instance wasn't even that bad_. Her brow furrowed in thought and she chewed on her lip as a mental picture of the Reverend swam into her mind. _Then again the Reverend never hated me and I stayed with him for weeks, but he still..._ The thought trailed off and she dropped the bag in frustration, her instincts warring with her. She pressed her palms into her eyes before dropping them on the table. She stared at them, her mind raging like a storm. _Dean already hates me and he doesn't even know the worst part of me yet._ She grit her teeth and started pacing. _Why am I even here? Maybe they don't even know how to get rid of Amon. Maybe they will never want to._ Her agitation bubbled up as she paced, building a steady pressure in her chest. Suddenly a light bulb nearby shattered, sparks flickering. Pip froze in surprise. _Augh, stupid, stupid_. She pounded her head with the heels of her palms. The last time she unconsciously broke something with her mind was when she was a child, still learning how to use her abilities. _I'm having a mental breakdown over one stupid incident_. She took a slow, deep breath like she trained herself to do so long ago. _My past has made me paranoid_ , she thought when her heart rate slowed down enough. _Things will get better, I'm sure I've already gone through the hardest part._ Despite her reassurances she couldn't help but wonder if it was too late to jump ship.


	19. Chapter 19

Pip woke to the sound of voices drifting into her room. The tone rose and fell, like there was an argument going on. With a small yawn Pip sat up, turning her head so that she could hear better.

"They're talking about you."

She jolted, clenching her bed sheets in tight fists. "Ollie." Her voice oozed with as much annoyance as she could muster, though she doubted it would have any effect on him. "Why are you here? How _long_ have you been here?" She kept her voice low, eyes flicking to the door every so often.

Ollie sat in a chair he pushed up against the wall, sprawled out like a lazy cat. He still wore an expensive-looking suit, although this time his dark hair was tied back. When she spoke he pursed his lips, brows furrowing. "I am not Ollie, I told you my new name already. Stop calling me that."

"It's hard to remember your other name."

"Well it's Ahab now."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Why do you change your name? It's very confusing." She was fairly certain that it wasn't normal for people to do so. As far as she knew, anyway.

"Names are powerful stuff in the magic world," he replied, his lips curling in a smile. "Fortunately you made things easier by giving yourself a name."

She leaned back a bit as goosebumps prickled along her arm.

"It's rather interesting what the magic world can do with just a name," he continued, as if he didn't notice her reaction. "Language is full of names for different things. When you say 'car', different people picture things. They imagine cars in all shapes, sizes, and colors. If someone says your name, a small group of people will picture you. They'll all imagine different versions of you, maybe just your face or your hair or your eyes. Maybe just some abstract thought of you, like a feeling. But they all will imagine pieces of you. And that's all the magic world needs. A name is the essence of you. A lot of damage can be done with that."

"So that's why you change names?" she asked, rubbing her arms to make the goosebumps go away.

"Not only that. The names I use aren't my own."

"They're not?"

He looked down at his nails, picking at them absentmindedly. "I'm guessing Father Dearest didn't allow you to read much. All of my names belong to well-known characters. So rather than thinking of me, they think of the characters. The names carry their essence, not mine. I temporarily adopt it."

"Couldn't they just force themselves to connect it to you? And what if they don't know the character?"

"They could, but it's difficult to fight a knee-jerk reaction. Spells can easily get muddled that way. It's like telling yourself to not think of a purple elephant. By doing so, you immediately think of it. Of course such a method isn't enough to completely prevent a spell, but it certainly helps. And no self-respecting witch would not know the characters I use." He sniffed haughtily. "Even if they don't know, I obviously have other means of protection and I'm insulted you would think so less of me to believe otherwise."

"You're very paranoid, aren't you."

"Hm." He dropped his hand, turning his dark eyes to her. "Pot, meet kettle."

She stared at him in bewilderment for a few moments before the voices outside caught her attention again. "You never answered my question," she said, annoyed that she had allowed him to distract her.

"I," he began, pushing himself up out of the chair, "am here to help like the selfless saint I am." He smoothed out his suit before reaching inside and pulling out a small, folded piece of paper. "Don't open this yet, you know when you'll need to." He held it out to her.

She stared, her gaze switching between him and the piece of paper. Eventually she reached out and took it, carefully tucking it away inside her jacket pocket. "No need to wait all night in my room and give me a heart attack just for a note," she mumbled. More cryptic instructions from a guy she barely knew. _Am I digging myself a deeper hole here?_ she asked herself.

"Why, yes, you are _certainly_ welcome for my help, dear partner-in-crime. I hope the so-called battle against your father will begin soon. Spending your energies fighting vampires and crazed doctors is a waste of time, and time is very short for you, Pip, even if you do not know it."

She narrowed her eyes at his ominous warning. "What are you talking about? Do you know something?"

"Tread lightly, Pip. You are not as safe here as you hope to be." He dipped his head at her and took a graceful step back, vanishing into the wall with a puff of smoke.

She grit her teeth in frustration. _The cryptic words and constant disappearances and reappearances is becoming aggravating_ , she thought, staring at the wall he retreated through. Everything about the man screamed untrustworthy. _Whatever his motives, he wants me scared, and he succeeded_. The folded paper felt as if it were burning a hole through her jacket and she resisted the urge to open it.

She forced herself to get up, the sound of voices still drifting through from the main room of the bunker. She had no idea what to do about... Ollie, and she didn't want to worry about it now. Currently he wasn't trying to kill her on sight, and that was good enough for her.

Pip slowed down as she got closer to the main room, Ollie's words ringing in her head. Inside, Sam and Dean sat at the table, surrounded by the usual books and laptops. A third man she didn't recognize stood at the head of the table, talking with the brothers. She came to a halt at the sight of him, the familiar instinct to flee bubbling up inside.

 _Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel._ The word thrummed in Amon's head, though he didn't say it out loud. The word echoed into her own mind, Amon's thoughts scraping against her nerves like strings on a violin. But instead of music they screamed _flee, flee, flee_.

Everything about him looked normal. He was dressed in a simple tan trench coat, white shirt, and dark tie. His dark hair was slightly unruly, as if he didn't know what to do with it. He didn't appear even remotely as sleazy as Ollie, and yet Pip was just as scared of him. Despite his normal appearance, she could feel a thrum of power from him that she couldn't place. If Ollie oozed distrust, this man screamed dangerous. And, angel or not, Pip did not want to be around him.

"Oh, Pip. Good morning." Sam's voice shattered her thoughts. Dean and the other man looked up at her in surprise.

She dragged her eyes away from the man to look at Sam. Taking a deep breath she packed up the frightened expression that was undoubtedly plastered on her face. "Good morning." Her voice came out squeakier than she'd hoped.

Sam looked at Dean as if he expected him to talk. Dean remained silently, giving her a brooding glare for a few moments before turning his attention to his laptop.

"Er... Pip, meet Castiel," Sam said, turning back to her. "He's an angel. He's going to help us deal with your father."

"Oh," she said stupidly, her eyes locking on Castiel again. She never imagined she would meet an angel, and he definitely wasn't what she guessed an angel would look like. _Maybe he is what Ollie was warning me about_.

Castiel peered at her oddly, squinting his eyes as if he were trying to figure her out. An icy prickle of fear slithered down her neck. _Can he sense you?_ she asked Amon, afraid that Castiel would reveal her secret. Amon seemed too preoccupied in his hatred for Castiel to answer her. The word "angel" still bounced around in her head, buzzing under her skin.

After a silent staredown, Castiel nodded his head at her. "Hello."

She blinked in surprise. Maybe her secret was safe after all. "Hello."

He turned his gaze back to the brothers and she slumped in relief, feeling as if a hand gripping her had finally let go.

"Alright..." Sam said, glancing between the two of them uncertainly. "Well, we were talking about focusing on your father's warehouses, to help interrupt his business as you said before." He stood up and smoothed out a map that lay out in front of him. "Do you think you could point out where some of them are so we know where to go? Preferably places that will do the most damage."

Pip stiffened, thinking of the note Ollie gave her. Following a hunch she removed it from her jacket, carefully unfolding it. In Ollie's swirling handwriting it listed a few locations with exact addresses. At the bottom there were two names and the words "Look for:". She recognized both of the names as higher-ups in her Father's ever-changing hierarchy. A few of the locations seemed familiar as well, but the rest she didn't recall.

"Uh," she said slowly, reading the note again several times. It was annoying how much Ollie seemed to know. "Yeah," she finally finished. "I have a list here." She forced her stiff legs to walk into the room, holding the note out for Sam.

As he read it she snuck glances at Castiel, squirming where she stood. She was not looking forward to spending time with him. But at least this way he was on her side, however long that would last.

"This is good," Sam said, looking back at the map splayed out on the table. "We can hit a few of these and then figure out where to go from there. Simple enough." He started tacking on markers to where the warehouse locations were.

"Yeah..." she said quietly, not sharing his sentiment. He was surprisingly optimistic about the whole operation.

"Before we do that go shower or something," Dean said, not looking up from his laptop. "You smell."

Her mouth twisted. "Okay," she said simply, playing cooperative again. It seemed silly to argue about her body odor to Dean anyway. She shot another glance at Castiel, who seemed preoccupied. Then she turned away, happy to leave.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Just a forewarning that I curse a bit in this chapter (and probably will in the upcoming ones; it's really not that much, though). I already gave this a more mature rating but just wanted to give another forewarning in case anyone is sensitive to that sort of thing.**

The ride to the warehouse ended up with Pip sharing the backseat with the angel. She positioned herself as far away as she could without being too obvious. Castiel didn't seem to notice, or if he did he didn't mention anything. Instead he sat rather stiffly and stared silently off into the distance. Amon ended up doing the opposite.

 _Bloody angels_ , he grumbled. Amon's unrest simmered under her skin and she bounced her leg as she tried to keep it under control. _Bunch of pricks who just go on and on about their duty as God's soldiers and shit like that._

 _Is that so?_ she replied, shooting a quick glance in Castiel's direction. The angel's eyes were still glued to some point far off in the distance. _Currently he is much quieter than you. And more pleasant._ She tried to make the last statement convincing, but Amon could feel her fear all too well. Despite the angel's calm and complacent manner so far, Pip could still feel a soft thrum of power whenever she was near him, boiling under the surface. It unnerved her.

 _You should be more afraid of me_ , Amon said, his voice sharp.

She didn't reply, but a small part of her brain answered what Amon already knew; she was scared of him as well. She was scared of Castiel, she was scared of Amon, she was scared of the Winchesters. She felt like an ant stuck trying to avoid getting stepped on.

She looked over at Castiel again, examining his profile. The Reverend always ranted and raved about God, Satan, angels, demons; the whole works. He'd described angels as mighty beings, surrounded in a halo of light. If it weren't for her extra sense of the power he had, he looked like an ordinary person. Too ordinary.

 _Do angels have to possess people too?_ she asked.

 _Yes._

Pip jolted in surprise at the response. _Truly?_ No wonder he looked so... un-angelic.

 _Yes._ His voice dripped with annoyance. _They have to ask before they do so._

 _So the man he's... inside now, wanted to be like this?_

 _Will drawing pictures help you understand? It's tiresome repeating myself._

 _Would you? That would be so helpful. It's difficult understanding you in that whiny tone._ She wasn't surprised when he responded with a sharp stab at her brain, already bracing herself before pushing him back down again. While Amon sulked she turned her attention back to Castiel, studying him.

She could only imagine how thrilled the Reverend would be to meet an angel. He would undoubtedly appreciate the opportunity more than she was. _Probably even beg to be possessed_ , she thought with a small shudder. It was hard enough having a demon, she couldn't imagine having an angel. _Maybe they're quieter._

"What's it like being an angel?" she asked before she realized what she was doing. Instantly she stiffened, watching in horror as Castiel turned to look at her.

"Overwhelming," he said after a moment of thought. "At times."

Her hands started to wring themselves nervously. "Oh." She paused. "What can angels do?"

He looked thoughtful again. "Healing, smiting..." His voice trailed off as he looked up at something up ahead.

Confused, Pip followed his line of sight, peering out the front of the car. "Castiel?" Headlights sliced through the dark night, blinking into the windshield. Pip squinted at the brightness as they came closer. "What?"

"Dean," Castiel said in warning.

At that moment the car ahead of them slammed into the front of their car. The air flew out of Pip's lungs as she was thrown back into the leather seat, glass shattering around her. The other car continued to accelerate and Dean's car squealed in protest as it was pushed backward.

"Dean! Sam!"

It was difficult to tell who was shouting over the ringing in her ears. She struggled to sit up, her vision blurring. Her mind scrambled as it tried to keep up with what was happening. "Castiel?" she croaked. The angel was busy shaking Sam's shoulder, glancing up in a panic every so often. She looked around slowly, her head feeling like a weight on her shoulders. _What's happening?_

Castiel pressed a hand to Sam's and Dean's foreheads and then paused, looking to the right. Another engine roared nearby and he suddenly jumped to her, covering her just as another car slammed into them. Pip had a single, bright flash of pain for just a moment before she blacked out.

Pip floated in darkness, her hair curling around her in soft, wispy tendrils. She slowly ran a hand through it, mesmerized. To her, even the dull brown seemed to glimmer in the dark. She could feel herself suspended in air, wherever she was. Twisting in the air, she let out a small bubble of laughter at the feeling. She flipped backwards, her hair flying up in front of her face as if she were underwater. She was about to do another flip when a sudden warmth spread along her skin, stretching itself from her shoulders to her toes. Lifting her hands in surprise she looked over them, searching for the source of the warmth. The warmth abruptly increased, suddenly becoming searing hot. She gave a small cry and flinched away, trying to escape whatever was hurting her. A sudden hissing sound rang in her ears and she searched around in a panic, hair whirling.

"Again."

An unrecognizable voice drifted to her, echoing around in the area as if it came from somewhere far away. The heat on her increased even more, the hissing sound crescendoing. Her mouth opened in a scream that vibrated in her chest.

She woke up with a cry, panting. The image of a dirty stone floor swam in front of her eyes, vastly different from the cracked leather seating she was expecting. She attempted to lift her head but it felt like a dead weight, her neck muscles crying a resistance when she moved. She managed to lift it slightly and leaned it on her shoulder, hair falling in front of her eyes. Unlike before her hair was clumped and tangled together, matted with sweat, dirt, and what looked like blood. She thought she spotted a few pieces of glass as well, though her eyes were still too blurry to tell for sure. A sudden wave of nausea roiled in her gut and she gagged. She tried to move her hands to cover her mouth, but they barely twitched before they reached resistance, unable to move. After more effort she was able to lift her head to look around at her surroundings. She was currently kneeling on the ground, her arms dangling from handcuffs that were chained to the ceiling. Her skin sizzled slightly, the heat she felt earlier still clinging to her.

"Again."

There was movement in front of her and she barely registered the sight of two figures before she was suddenly doused in water. The sensation of burning returned and she recoiled, stumbling back as far as the chains would allow her to go. Her skin hissed, steam rising off of it. Her mind throbbed as it tried to recoil, lashing out in a burst of energy before she felt it get pushed down.

"Finally." A man stepped forward, leaning toward her slightly to examine her. "Don't understand why people are so excited about you. 'Put her in these fancy handcuffs or she'll rip your face off' or some bullshit like that. You're not nearly that interesting. It took three buckets of this holy water crap just to get you to wake up." He snatched the bucket out of a nearby woman's hand and waved it in the air to stress his point.

Pip squinted at him as he spoke, dazed. He didn't seem familiar to her at all, though it was difficult to tell when her eyes kept blurring him out of focus. Sometimes she saw two of him. With much effort she curled her lips back, baring her teeth at him.

Seeing her reaction the man lifted a brow and tossed the bucket to the side. Pip winced at the loud banging sound it made when it hit the ground.

"Whatever," he continued, walking to the other side of the room. "Your father will be here shortly so try to stay awake."

At those words her heart stuttered, a sharp pain jabbing in her chest. "No," she said, her voice slurred. Her mind flared up again, desperately pushing against the magic that held it back. She forced her legs to stand, using the chains to help keep her steady. Her legs felt like stone, barely responding to what she wanted to do. She clung to the chains to keep herself upright as her legs wobbled.

The man watched her impassively, leaning against a table with his arms crossed.

When she was finally standing she stopped, the only sound in the room her labored breathing and the slight clanking of the chains as she swayed. She had no idea where she was or who these people were. She gave a slow sigh that evolved into a low chuckle that surprised even her. "This sucks." All of her paranoid predictions came true and now she was most certainly going to die by the hands of her father. This had been a bad idea from the very first moment she had laid eyes on the Winchesters holding that stupid black and white picture of her. She wanted to jump up and down and scream, "I told you so, I told you so," at the brothers. Except she knew she hadn't told them so; she'd been too terrified to.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a few moment and she took a deep breath, feeling the exhaustion aching in her limbs. She stood like that for a while, allowing herself to indulge her fatigue. Then she shook herself awake, as much as she could despite her sore body. _Not giving up yet,_ she thought, zeroing in on the man.

She still had no idea how the rose imprinted on her palm worked, but now was the time to make some guesses. It was the only shot she had at the moment. Following her instinct she curled her hand, digging her nails into the rose until a trickle of blood oozed out.

"Ollie," she called out, her voice hoarse. Her eyes pinched shut as she concentrated, painting a picture of the mysterious man in her head with his dark eyes and wide smile. "Ollieee," she repeated, drawing the word out. Her fist clenched tighter, digging in as hard as she could.

The man stared at her as if she were insane. "The hell?"

At first nothing happened and Pip was left with just the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her ears. Disappointed, Pip opened her eyes just in time to see Ollie step into the room, hands casually adjusting his tie as if he were simply walking into a room rather than appearing out of thin air. His eyes flicked around the room, drinking in his surroundings before settling on Pip. Dark eyes glinting, he pointed a finger at the man. "Him?" he asked her.

She nodded, struggling to keep her head upright as she did so.

The man stared at Ollie, reaching into his pocket. "Who the hell are you?"

Ollie turned his gaze to him, his face suddenly morphing into a mask of silent fury. He flung out a hand, muttering under his breath. The man flew back, pressing against the wall with a cry. The woman who had doused Pip in holy water screamed, covering her mouth and stumbling away from Ollie.

"Piece of shit," the man growled, struggling. He pulled a gun out of his pocket and blindly fired into the room.

Not flinching, Ollie strode towards the man, latching onto his throat with a familiar wide grin. He ripped the gun out of the man's hands and tossed it aside. The man gripped Ollie's arm and used it to kick at him, forcing Ollie to fall back. When Ollie's grip slackened the man flew at him, and the two exploded into a fight.

Ollie fought better than Pip expected him to. He had seemed too proper and sophisticated to know how to throw a punch. Despite her expectations, he moved with a steady grace, blocking the man's advances and landing more than a few successful blows. Finally Ollie landed a hard kick on the man's chest, causing him to fly back and slam into the wall yet again. There was a sharp crack from the man's head hitting the hard stone, leaving a bloody smear as he slumped to the floor.

Ollie straightened, adjusting his suit with a smug smile. "Very enjoyable," he said, his dark eyes sliding back to Pip. He turned to look at the woman, who had cowered in the corner during the fight, her hands covering her head. "Don't move." He dug into the man's pockets until he pulled out a key, holding it up to Pip with a grin. Then he pulled out a knife that had been tucked into the man's jacket before moving towards her. He crouched down and scratched at the devil's trap that had been painted on the floor, cutting through the bold lines. "There's one." He unlocked the handcuffs around her wrists, catching her as she fell forward. "There's two. Feeling better, pipsqueak?"

"Much." As soon as the handcuffs fell off she felt her wounds beginning to close, the sharp pain fading away. As Ollie helped her stand she shook out her arms, letting the energy return to them. "So much better," she repeated, taking a deep breath. Her mind stretched, pressing against the ceiling of the room. Satisfied, she looked at the man who was still slumped against the wall, his expression peaceful as if he were just sleeping. "Is he alive?" she asked, glancing at Ollie, who shrugged in response.

Before she could convince herself otherwise she lashed out with her mind and gave the man a solid punch. The man fell over, letting out a low groan. Ollie stared at her, lifting a brow. She simply shrugged at him.

"Now," she said, clasping her hands together and turning towards the woman still crouched in the corner. "I've got some brothers and an angel to rescue, and you're going to help me."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: I just wanted to mention that I want to offer to read/review/edit stories as a way of improving my writing. More info on my profile for anyone interested.**

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"I'm still waiting, by the way," Ollie said.

Pip stuttered in her running as they both flew down the hall. Well, Ollie ran like flowing water while she limped along like a broken toy. The handcuffs' effect hadn't completely worn off and she was still recovering from her wounds.

"Waiting for what?" she finally demanded when it didn't seem as if he were going to elaborate.

He gave her a comically overdone look of surprise. "For you to say thank you. What kind of household were you raised in?"

She gave her best unladylike snort.

The woman they had questioned was quick with information. They had been discovered by an alarm system that was set up in a wide perimeter around the warehouse. Only those the alarm recognized were allowed inside. That did not include two hunters, an angel, and a demon. She cursed herself for being so stupid. Her father may have added an alarm system to his warehouses after she ran away, or it might have been something she never had to worry about, but she still should've expected something like that. Alarms made by her father were probably easy enough to spot and disable, especially in such a wide radius.

Fortunately she got the location of the brothers and Castiel from the woman. Their situation was salvageable, as long as they got out before her father showed up. _And_ , she thought a bit reluctantly, _fortunately I have Ollie_. She shot him a sidelong glance, studying him for a moment.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Without your help I probably would still be stuck back there, or dead already."

"Mmm," he hummed, fluffing up like a proud bird. "Glad to be of service."

"Would be easier to not make me have to stab myself every time I want to use this rose thing," she muttered. The shallow cut had already healed over long ago, though she didn't mention that.

He shot her a look, brows raised. "Stab yourself? Whatever stabbing you did, you didn't have to do. All you had to do was think of the essence of me, like I explained before, and say my name." He paused. "Stupid."

Her head whipped to look at him, eyes burning in a glare. Just then, movement behind her caught her attention and she whirled around in time to see a man pointing a gun straight at them.

"Ollie!" she shouted, reaching out and yanking Ollie's arm to pull him out of the way. Her short height compared to his caused him to stumble, tipping over as a bullet whizzed past. He yanked his arm free from her grasp and turned, swinging his arm with his momentum. Fire formed between his curled fingers as he moved. He threw his arm, the fire releasing in a ball of flame. The man braced his feet apart, shouting a quick spell, and Ollie's ball of fire exploded as it hit a shimmering wall. The man lifted the gun again, and Pip and Ollie jumped out of the way as two shots fired, pinging around the hallway.

Pip pushed herself up and flung out her mind, feeling it wrap around the man. He dropped his gun in surprise as he was tossed to the side, hitting the wall hard. She grabbed onto the gun, yanking it across the ground towards Ollie. As the man tried to recover, Ollie swooped down, grabbing the gun and firing two shots into the man. The two of them stood silently for a few moments, their panting echoing in the sudden silence.

"Come on," she finally said, brushing herself off.

 _This is stupid._ Amon's angry voice suddenly flooded her head. _I've had enough of this. Maybe you haven't fully grasped this yet, but your father is on his way. And I, for one, am not particularly thrilled at the idea of going back. So stop playing hero for the stupid Winchesters and just_ _get out_ _._

 _I need them_ , she said simply as she scanned the doorways, searching for the right room.

 _Stupid girl, I refuse to be taken down with you. If we are killed I will see you in hell where I will be sure to make you understand just how stupid you are._ Amon's fury swelled in a silent roar.

She shook off his words with a shudder.

"Pip!" She heard Dean's voice call out from a nearby room.

"Dean!" she answered, relieved. "I'm coming, hang on." She slowed down and turned to Ollie, holding out an arm to stop him before they reached the doorway. "Ollie, I need you to go now," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the room Dean's voice came from.

"Go?" he asked, raising a brow at her. "Whatever for? I thought this would be our first great battle against your father."

Her eyes squeezed shut, holding both her hands up now as if to push him away. "Not yet, please. I don't want the brothers to know about you just yet. They don't trust me enough and I don't want to put it to the test now by introducing another witch."

"You just ran all the way over here to save them and they supposedly don't trust you yet?"

"Please, Ollie." Her tone turned pleading. "Not yet."

Ollie's expression went dark. "Very well. Although eventually you're going to have to do something for me, Pip. That's how relationships work, after all." He gave her a malicious grin, took a backward step, and then disappeared.

Just as he vanished from sight, three men rounded the corner down the hall, guns raised. Pip's eyes widened in panic and she scrambled into the room just as several bullets hit the ground where she had been standing. Inside the room, both Sam and Dean where handcuffed, hanging from the ceiling in a similar manner as she had been. Fortunately no one else was in there.

"Pip," Sam said, sounding relieved.

She searched the room for a key as footsteps pounded down the hallway, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat. "Come on, come on," she whispered, tossing items off the tables and ripping the cabinets apart. When she failed to find a key she turned towards the brothers, biting her lip. "Hard way, then," she muttered. She squinted at the handcuffs, trying to focus even as the threat in the hallway came closer. Her mind shot forward and she forced it back, trying to control it to focus on just the handcuffs. It resisted, and she wrestled with it. Finally it latched on to one of Sam's handcuffs, looping through each of the chain links. She squeezed tight with her mind and then pulled, the chain shattering as she did. Just as she tried to move on to the next one, one of the men burst into the room, firing at her. She flinched back as the bullet hit the wall behind her. Gritting her teeth she ignored the man and focused on the other chain. The second chain shattered just as the man tackled her and the two of them tumbled to the floor together. Sam exploded into motion as soon as the chain snapped, smacking the gun away from the second man who entered the room.

"Pip, Sam!" Dean shouted, straining against his handcuffs in frustration.

Pip rolled away from the man who had thrown her to the side, struggling to focus on Dean's chains as she got to her feet. Her concentration broke as her attacker landed a solid punch to her jaw and she fell back, her vision swimming.

She could practically feel Amon grinding his teeth in anger. _Stupid, stupid,_ _stupid_ _girl._

She struggled to her feet again, zeroing in on the chain fast enough to snap it. Her attacker landed another walloping punch on her and she fell, spitting out a glob of blood. _Stupid handcuffs_ , she thought, following it up with a string of curses. She looked up as stars flickered in her eyes, determined to finish. Dean fought even as one hand was still chained to the ceiling, lashing out with kicks and his free arm.

Pip's view was interrupted as another punch slammed into her. She fell down and the man followed up with a sharp kick, forcing her back against the wall. She coughed, holding an arm over her stomach as if her ribs were about to fall out. They certainly felt like it. He kept up a volley of kicks and she curled up, trying to protect herself from the blows. She tried reaching out blindly with her mind to push him away, but it recoiled every time a kick connected.

Suddenly the blows stopped and there was a crash, followed by a shout. Taking the opportunity, Pip propped herself up, struggling to focus her shaky vision again. Dean currently had the still-attached chain wrapped around one of the attacker's necks, pulling hard. The man scrabbled at the chain, eyes bulging and face reddening. When the chain didn't yield the man reached back at Dean's face, clawing and scraping at it desperately. His movements weakened every second until finally his arms grew limp, falling to his sides.

Pip narrowed her eyes and snapped Dean's remaining chain, slumping slightly in relief as she did so. Shots echoed in the room and she looked up in panic. Sam stood with the gun pointed at one of the attackers, shoulders heaving with his panting. The third man sat slumped against the wall, his neck twisted.

"Well," Dean said after a few moments, rubbing his wrist where the remaining half of the handcuffs were still attached. "Glad that's over."

Dean's voice seemed to wake up Sam and he picked up one of the discarded guns, holding it out to Dean. "Here," he said, glancing out the doorway. "Do you think you can get these off?" he asked Pip, gesturing to the handcuff clinking on his wrist.

"Yes, but it's best to wait until we leave here," she said, wincing as she stood up. "It'll take a while." Sam moved to help her stand, seeing her struggle.

"Leave?" Dean asked as he checked the gun's cartridge. "Who says we're leaving?"

She stared at him incredulously. "Uh... um. I'm sorry, I'm confused. Why aren't we leaving?"

"We came here for a reason," he replied, giving her a look as if she were stupid. "We'll grab Cas, blow this place to kingdom come, then head out."

She blinked, her mouth dropping slightly at his words. _He makes it sound as if this is a shopping trip_. As she stood in shocked silence, Dean moved over to Sam, slapping a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You good?" Dean asked, examining his brother.

"Yeah, fine," Sam answered. "You?"

Pip interrupted, taking a step towards them. "Shouldn't we, you know, go back to the bunker, recuperate, then try again? I mean, you guys look..." She trailed off, gesturing at the two of them. They were both battered and bruised, covered in various cuts and blood that may or may not have been their own. All things considered, though, they looked pretty good despite the car crash this had all started with.

"If we recuperate, so do they. No, we'll deal with this shit while we're here," Dean said, picking up the remaining gun still lying on the floor. "Do you know where Cas is?"

She took a deep breath and winced as a sharp pain followed it. She wheezed as she let the breath out. "Fine," she said, even as Amon's anger crescendoed in her head at her response. After she had first gotten out of her handcuffs, she told herself to be more assertive with the brothers. Apparently she still couldn't do it.

"We need to move fast, though," she said, lowering her voice. "My father is undoubtedly here by now, and we're not ready for him yet." She reached into her pocket as she spoke, feeling for the pouch. The pocket was empty.

She froze, feeling around again in a panic. "No," she said, her voice shaky. "No, no, no." She flipped the pocket inside out and then tore through her other one. Her stomach felt as if it were sinking down and a sick feeling bubbled up inside. "It's gone," she finally said when her search yielded nothing. Her legs weakened and the familiar icy feeling crept down her back as she looked up at the brothers.

"My pouch is gone."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Sorry not much happens this chapter. I want to keep chapters mostly under 2000 words, and them finding Cas would probably push it too far over that limit. I'm not sure how to feel about this chapter; I feel that I may have tried to do too many things in a short period of time or rushed things a bit. And I'm still not entirely sure that I'm making Sam and Dean actually sound like Sam and Dean. Let me know what you guys think, it really helps. Also thank you to all the people who reviewed so far, it means so much to me. Enjoy!**

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Pip tore through the room a second time, her heart pounding in her ears. She went down on her hands and knees, patting the ground for the familiar soft pouch. "Where, where, where," she chanted under her breath, not completely aware that she was doing so. Her mind raced as she searched, trying to come up with an alternative if she couldn't find her pouch. But nothing came to mind; her pouch was the only thing separating her from her father, and that was the only one she would ever have. And she'd lost it.

She sat back on her haunches, her eyes squeezing shut in anguish. _I lost it._ Her father would probably be amused by the whole thing. He would get her back all because she couldn't keep track of a single pouch. She tried to run a hand through her hair, but it ended up getting caught in the endless tangles and snarls so she just yanked it back out instead.

"Pip, relax."

She suddenly realized that the brothers had been talking to her and looked up to see Sam holding a hand out to her. She took it with a shaky hand of her own, gripping him like a lifeline as he pulled her up. When he released her she shoved her trembling hands in her pockets, her fingers instinctively curling around a pouch that should've been there.

"You don't need the pouch anyway," Dean said, moving over to the doorway and checking the hall. "In fact, we can just nip the bud on this whole thing while we're here. Why are we even going after warehouses in the first place when we can just gank your dad. Then we can deal with his 'empire' or whatever."

"No," Pip said a little too loudly. She cleared her throat and tried again in a quieter tone. "No, that's not a good idea." Her gaze drifted to stare at her dark boots. "You don't know what he's capable of. It's better to take him by surprise, not here where we're on his turf and unable to know when he'll show up." She looked up at the door as if just talking about him would be enough to summon him here. _Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear_ , she thought with a shiver.

"Listen, I'm getting sick of this vague 'he's too dangerous' crap you keep giving us." Dean shifted from his position at the door, taking a menacing step towards her. "He's a witch, we've dealt with witches before. Either you're building him up to be something he's not or you're hiding something from us. We've been going solely on your word for days now, talking about this magical empire bullshit that no one has ever heard of except for you, and now you've dragged us to this goddamn warehouse where we immediately get the shit beaten out of us. Cas is probably strung up somewhere and instead of looking for him we're standing here while you're crawling around looking for your stupid, goddamn pouch!" His voice rose as he spoke until he was shouting at the end, practically spitting at her while his eyes burned.

Her mind boiled as he yelled and she could feel it writhe in the air around her, itching to smash something. She took slow, steady breaths, clenching her fists as she forced it to calm down. The process felt like trying to calm a feral cat, and Dean's searing glare did not help. More than anything she wanted to tear the room apart, but at the same time she wanted to tell the brothers everything. Amon, the Reverend, Ollie; everything. Every day it felt as if her shoulders felt a little bit heavier and she was trying to walk on eggshells with all that weight. But the way Dean was looking at her now gave her a million reasons not to say a word. Jumping ship seemed an especially appealing idea now, and the warehouse would be a perfect time and place to do it. She wasn't sure anymore if getting rid of Amon was worth sticking around. _But now my pouch is gone_ , she reminded herself. _And staying with the brothers is better than going on my own._

"If you're trying to insinuate that this little trip to the warehouse was an attempt on my part to kill you and your brother, then it seems I have a growing habit of making the job more difficult for myself by letting you two go. I have an incredibly poor track record for successfully killing both of you, so you shouldn't have anything to worry about." Her tone grew sharper as she spoke, her mind roiling up again to match her temper. She bared her teeth slightly at him, looking as monstrous and feral as she felt. Dean matched her fierce look with his own murderous glare.

"Guys," Sam interrupted, stepping forward.

Before he could continue Pip spoke up again. "Listen, I'm not secretly trying to harm you or your brother." She slowly started to pack up her temper, pushing it down until she felt it drain out of her system. "The last thing I want to do is add you, your brother, and Castiel on my growing list of casualties. And I will take the blame that we are in this situation in the first place. I should've been looking for traps or alarms since I'm the one who's most familiar with my father. But," she paused and looked up at Dean, her eyes pleading, "please believe me when I say my father is dangerous. There will come a time when we need to face him but now... now is not that time." She kept her chin high, trying to seem confident and brave. But she knew she undoubtedly looked as scared as she felt.

Dean seemed to pick up on her fear and the burning glare he was giving her faded away. He shifted uncomfortably. "Fine, relax, we'll avoid your dad this time around. We'll try looking for your uh, pouch thing after we get Cas. Then we'll torch this place and head out. Alright?"

The sudden change in his demeanor surprised her, and she could only nod, unable to stop a relieved expression spreading across her face.

Satisfied that the possibility of a fight was avoided, Sam relaxed and moved to the door. Pip and Dean followed him until Dean halted and turned slightly towards Pip. "And Pip? You don't have to be so scared of your dad anymore. We'll keep you safe, promise."

Now that her temper was gone, she felt tired again, her still healing wounds making themselves known. When Dean spoke to her she gave a tired smile. "Thanks," she said quietly, a bit surprised at his words. Her time with the brothers would be a lot better if Dean was always like that.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean said, rolling his eyes when his brother shot him a sly look. "Let's go already." He turned again to head out the door. Before he exited the room completely, Pip instinctively grabbed on to one of the tables near the door with her mind and pushed it into Dean. He stumbled to the side when the table bumped into him, grabbing on to the door jamb to catch himself.

"What the..." he muttered, shoving the table back. He shot Pip a glare, although it didn't burn as much as his first one. She looked away innocently, suddenly very interested in the wall. Sam snickered behind him. "I'm surrounded by children," he grumbled, throwing up his hands and pushing past his brother.


	23. Chapter 23

Pip led the Winchesters, mentally tracking the directions the woman had given her. "He should be around here," she said, hastily checking the nearby rooms. She knew she should've been more careful, but her yelling match with Dean had put her on edge and she just wanted to get out of there. She ripped open a nearby door and gave a quick scan. Only cardboard boxes stared back at her.

"Cas," Dean called. He matched her lack of caution, bursting into a room as he searched for the angel. When the room turned up empty, he moved steadily down the hall, checking each room.

Sam jogged after them, frustration painted on his face. "Keep it down," he said in a sharp whisper. Dean ignored his brother, kicking open another door and shouting for Castiel. Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Fine, your way." He opened a door, peeking in more cautiously than his brother.

"You said he would be here," Dean barked, kicking down a door and sweeping the room with his gun up. When the room turned up empty he turned to her, glaring.

"Yeah, well, my source wasn't very detailed and I was too distracted to get more from her." She opened a door as she spoke. "I-" A bullet whizzed past her head as the door swung open, interrupting her. After a moment of shock, she dove to the side, skidding against the wall. Sam and Dean instinctively ducked as more shots rang out, each taking positions on either side of the door with their own guns raised.

"These witches sure use a lot of guns," Dean muttered, risking a peek inside. More bullets forced him back. "I think I saw Cas in there. Pip, can you do your... mind thing?"

She pressed up against the wall from where she sat on the floor, flexing her mind. When she felt it stretch, she swung it in a wide blast that hit the guards inside. Taking the silence as a cue, Sam and Dean burst into the room, firing quick rounds. Pip stayed pressed against the wall, her ears ringing as gunshots echoed in the room. After a few moments the shots faded away and she sat in silence, wondering if the brothers had just gotten themselves killed and she was now alone in the warehouse.

"Clear," Sam said, leaning outside the doorway to wave her in.

She gave a small sigh of relief, and with a glance over her shoulder she hurried inside. Three bodies were collapsed by the wall while a fourth one lay slumped against a table. Their bullet holes were still steaming. Castiel hung at the other end of the room, kneeling down with his arms hanging from the ceiling.

Dean kneeled in front of Castiel, shaking his shoulder and slapping his cheek in an attempt to wake him up. "Cas. Cas. C'mon, buddy. Rise and shine." There was no response, Castiel's head bobbing slightly as Dean tried to wake him. Dean exchanged a worried look with his brother before he got up and examined the chains. "These don't look like Enochian handcuffs," he said, tugging lightly on them. His eyes drifted back to Castiel and he stiffened. "Sam... look at this."

Sam moved over to Dean, following his brother's eyeline to Castiel's back. "It looks like Enochian," Sam said, his brows raised. "Pip, does your father know Enochian? Or any of the witches who work for him?"

Pip furrowed her brow in confusion and went over to the Winchesters. "Enochian?" When she moved behind Castiel, she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the still-bleeding symbols carved into Castiel's back. The cuts formed intricate designs despite the ghastly format, looping and whirling along his skin. The handiwork was unnervingly similar to the ones she knew she had on her own back. "I... I don't know," she said, her voice faint. The idea of her father having access to angels, or even just studying them, scared her even more than before. She shivered at the thought of her father doing to an angel what he did to Amon. "It's definitely him, though," she said, her hand hovering over a symbol. "This is really powerful magic. It's hurting Castiel." She looked up at where Castiel's head dangled, his eyes shut.

"These symbols look like Enochian," Sam said, pointing at a few specific symbols. "But these look like something else. Do you know what they are?"

"They're my father's, that's all I know," she said, her voice stiff. She certainly did not want to talk about them.

"Well, do you know how to fix it?" Sam asked.

She looked up at him, her expression terrified. She was not trained in magic, much less something powerful enough to break an angel. Amon's anger burned through her in another wave.

 _This is a waste of time_ , he spat.

"Possibly," she finally said, studying the symbols again. She rubbed the rose on her palm absentmindedly, knowing she would have to turn to Ollie for help yet again. She was digging a deeper hole with him in the same way people dug a deeper hole for themselves with her father. _At least it's not for myself_ , she thought, looking up at the brothers.

Movement by the door caught her attention, and she looked up in time to see the glint of a gun at the doorway. "Get down," she shouted. Sam and Dean reacted instantly, ducking out of the way as a bullet pinged behind Pip. She grabbed a hold of the door with her mind and slammed it shut, forcing their attacker back.

When the attacker stumbled in again, Sam and Dean had their own guns ready and fired. The man fell back, his gun clanging on the ground. The brothers waited expectantly, guns still raised.

"Alright," Dean said after a few moments, lowering his gun. "He's done. Pip, break these chains so we can get Cas out of here. Sam and I will make sure no one else gets in. Then we'll blow this place to kingdom come, head back to the bunker, and figure out where to go from there."

"Blow this place up how, Dean? All of the C-4 was in the car, and we have no idea where that is right now," Sam said.

"Well we better start looking, because we are not leaving here without Baby." Dean straightened, gave his brother a pointed look, and then went to the doorway to keep watch.

"Who's Baby?" Pip whispered, watching Dean's back as he walked away.

Sam sighed, standing up as well. "The car," he responded in a flat tone. "You deal with Cas, Dean and I will keep you covered." She nodded at him as he went to go join his brother.

"And he was all upset about my pouch," she grumbled under her breath, turning to focus on the chains holding Castiel. When she finally freed him, Sam and Dean slung his arms over their shoulders, supporting him between the two of them.

"You wouldn't happen to know the way out of this friggin' place, would you, pipsqueak?" Dean said, adjusting the arm draped over his shoulder.

"I can figure it out," she said, practically hopping in place. She was itching to get out of there.

"We'll follow your lead," Sam said. "Do you want a gun?"

"No, thanks," she said, already peeking outside the door. For whatever reason, the Winchesters were placing more trust in her. She wasn't sure what to do with it, especially since not so long ago she was thinking of just leaving them behind. "Come on," she said when she saw the coast was clear, waving a hand at the brothers.

Despite Pip's caution, the warehouse was seemingly abandoned. There were no signs of life as they moved through the halls.

"Did everyone go home?" Dean grunted, craning his neck to see ahead.

"I don't like it," Sam responded, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for his gun that was tucked into his pants.

After a few false turns, Pip finally opened a door to reveal a grassy plain, a slight wind brushing her cheeks as she stepped outside. A gravel lot sat next to the warehouse, with "Baby" sitting in the center.

"Oh, Baby what did they do to you," Dean said. He and Sam stumbled slightly as they stepped outside and they adjusted Castiel. The car was warped, smashed in on several sides. All the windows were gone, only jagged mountains left around the edges.

"Will we be able to drive?" Sam asked, trying to open one of the doors with one free hand.

Pip reached out with her mind, opening the door for him. The door squealed loudly in protest, groaning as she pulled on it.

"Gentle," Dean barked at her, ignoring his brother's question.

After several attempts, the brothers managed to wedge Castiel in the back seat, draping him across the leather as best they could. When they finished, Dean sat in the front seat, running a hand over the broken dashboard. Sam went to the back and opened up the trunk, lifting up the second layer that Pip knew held a whole slew of assorted weapons and hunting items.

"Great," Sam said, leaning against the car with a sigh. "They cleared us out."

"You're joking," Dean said, getting out of the car and going to the trunk. "Damnit," he cursed when he saw the empty space that originally held all their weapons. He turned back towards the warehouse. "Son of a bitch." He paused for a few moments before shouting, "I hate witches!"

"What now?" Sam said, carefully closing the damaged trunk. "They have our C-4 too."

Dean stared at the building in silence, the anger practically visibly radiating off of him. Suddenly he turned towards Pip, his eyes burning again. "Anything?"

She jolted upright, kicking herself into action. "There's uh..." She wracked her brain for an idea or a spell. "Um..." She looked up at the warehouse, peering into the dark windows that peered back at her. "Hex bags," she said, the idea clicking in her head. "We can use hex bags." She turned towards the brothers, excited.

"How are hex bags supposed to help?" Dean asked.

"They're not technically hex bags," she said, pacing slightly as she explained. "They're sort of the same, except they're like mini bombs. You place it where you want it, say the magic word, and boom. My father makes them at his factories." She looked back at the warehouse again, studying it. "They're not very powerful on their own, though. Not enough to take down a place like this." She paused. "There'd have to be a pretty big pile of them all together. There's possibly a boiler down in the basement, too. Stick them near the boiler, and that could do the trick."

Dean nodded. "Alright. Your dad wouldn't happen to have a giant pile of them laying around somewhere in there, would he?"

She shook her head. "He isn't that stupid. But there will be a few laying around in some of the rooms. They'll be in orange pouches with, um..." Her voice trailed off and she looked around for a few seconds. Eventually she squatted down, drawing in the gravel with her finger. "They'll have a symbol like this on them. When you pick them up just say, _activus_ so that way they'll be... 'turned on' and ready for the spell that will make them work."

"So, grab a bunch, _activus_ , then meet back out here," Dean said. "Sounds good."

"The spell for them should work from out here," Pip said, standing up and dusting off her hands. "They're typically meant to be thrown, but it, hopefully, will work this way too."

Dean jerked his head towards the building before moving towards it, gun in his hand. When Pip followed, Dean stopped and held out a hand, making her halt. "You stay here."

She hesitated, looking back at the damaged car. "Okay," she said, her voice unsure. She took a few steps backward, watching the Winchesters as they headed back into the building.

 **A/N: In case anyone's wondering:** _ **soon**_ **.**


	24. Chapter 24

The brothers made short work of gathering up the 'pouch bombs,' but Pip still paced impatiently outside, digging a trench in the gravel lot. Before they went in she managed to remove the shackles still around their wrists, and when they were gone she did the same for Castiel. But now she had nothing to do except wait. Her insides bubbled with nerves and her fingers constantly hovered over her pocket, reaching for the empty space where her pouch used to be. She realized now she should've forced the brothers to let her go in as well, if only for the opportunity to search for her pouch. But every time she contemplated abandoning her post, she managed to convince herself to stay. _Maybe they would leave without me_ , she thought, looking up at the building for any sign of the brothers. Being stranded at this warehouse was a death sentence. Gritting her teeth, she turned on her heel to continue pacing in the other direction. She was still so dependent on other people and it aggravated her.

When Dean emerged from the warehouse she stopped her pacing, watching him expectantly. He seemed to sense her impatience because he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I got a whole pile of the magic bombs sitting in the basement. There aren't really a lot so, hopefully it will be enough."

"Did you run into any other witches in there?" she asked, watching the building carefully for any sign of Sam.

"Nah. Guess we got them all."

She grimaced, doubting that that were true. The thought of her pouch danced on the tip of her tongue and it took an incredible amount of quashing it down to prevent herself from asking. It was too late. _Maybe it was destroyed already_. The thought wormed its way into her head like an unwelcome parasite. Her fingers twitched again and she danced in place to shake the feeling off.

Dean studied her for a few moments, his eyes squinting at her. "I didn't find your pouch, Pip. I'm sorry."

She looked away, unnerved at how obvious she was. "S'okay," she mumbled. "We'll just have to... 'kick his ass,' yeah?"

Dean snorted, shooting her an incredulous look. "Yeah, that."

Eventually Sam appeared, exiting the warehouse. His shoulders hunched forward as he walked towards them, his expression obviously tired. A black duffel bag was slung over his shoulder, a few guns peeking out of it. "Alright, so," he huffed when he reached them, tossing the bag onto the ground. Dust drifted up around it and he dusted off his hands. "I managed to find a few of our weapons, plus some of their guns. And this nice duffel bag. We'll have to restock on a bunch of stuff still, but at least we're not completely empty-handed." He unzipped the bag, grunting lightly as he leaned forward. Reaching in, he pulled out a ragged, bloody trench coat that Pip recognized as Castiel's. "And I found Cas's coat." He held it out to his brother.

"The hell you handing it to me for?" Dean asked, though he accepted it from his brother.

"We're going to split up," Sam said while he pulled out a few guns and assorted knives. He adjusted the guns that were still poking their barrels out of the bag like curious animals. "You're going to take Cas back to the bunker, and I'll take Pip to stay at a motel in case her dad decides to show up." He laid the weapons on the ground as he spoke, arranging them in a pile.

"Hell no, this is a stupid plan. You're not going to face off against this guy alone," Dean interjected. "And Pip's supposed to help Cas who, if you've forgotten, is still lying comatose in the back of my car."

Pip stiffened when both brothers look at her expectantly, and she knew she would have to place herself in the center of an argument between the two brothers. "The magic on Castiel is really powerful stuff," she began hesitantly. "It'll take days to deal with, and that's if my dad doesn't show up to interrupt the process." _And if Ollie is even willing to fix it or knows how to_ , she thought. "It won't kill him," she continued. "It's just... painful. He won't be able to wake up to protect himself."

Dean looked restless. "So this is somehow a better plan?"

"This is all _if_ he shows up, Dean," Sam said. He zipped up the bag again and then stood up. "We don't want to lead him back to the bunker."

"So we'll all just stay in a motel. I mean, he still hasn't showed up. Maybe he's just not interested anymore."

"Well, we are about to blow up his warehouse," Sam said, jerking his head towards the building. "If he's not after Pip anymore, he'll be ticked about that. It'll be safer to keep Cas away from him."

"He'll use Castiel like an experiment if he gets his hands on him," she added.

Dean stood brewing for a few moments, his jaw clenching. "Fine," he said, grabbing the weapons Sam had laid out on the ground. "But don't be stupid." He pointed a knife at his brother and then at her, punctuating his words with it. "Let me know if he shows up. And only stay for one day. If still nothing, then we'll figure out a way to ward the bunker or something." When Sam nodded in agreement, Dean seemed satisfied. "You got a ride?" he asked as he slipped one of the smaller guns into the waist of his jeans.

"Yeah," Sam responded, jerking a thumb towards a black SUV parked in the lot, left behind by the witches. "You ready, Pip?"

She blinked, glancing between the two brothers. "For?"

Dean stared at her as if she was stupid. "Make the pouch things explode."

"Oh, right." Taking a step towards the warehouse, she lifted her arms and held out her hands, her feet spread slightly. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. " _Ignis_ ," she breathed, releasing her breath in a long sigh. She felt the magic click in her chest just as the building exploded. A wave of heat and dust washed over the three of them, and she winced, squinting as she tried to look at the aftermath. The roar of the explosion thundered in her ears. Sam and Dean shaded their eyes with their hands, barely flinching at the scene.

"That takes care of that," Dean said after a few moments, lowering his hand. The building was still standing, but fire curled out of the windows and doors, no doubt devouring whatever was left inside. "Do you know how to make those things? They're pretty handy," he added, glancing at Pip.

"Anyway," Sam interrupted, his tone painted with annoyance. "Let's head out. We all need a shower and some first aid." He peeled back a bloody section of his shirt to emphasize his point.

His brother rolled his eyes but acquiesced. "Stay safe," Dean said, shooting Sam a meaningful look before walking away.

Riding with just Sam meant she could sit in the front seat for once, and driving a different car gave her more freedom to fiddle around with the dashboard. Recognizing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Pip took full advantage of it. She fiddled around with the air conditioning first, constantly switching between blasting hot and cold air. Sam eventually closed off the vents near him, clearly trying to be patient with her inquisitiveness.

After she was satisfied with the air conditioning, she searched for what she assumed was the radio. She pushed several buttons, expecting music to drift out the same way it did in the Winchester car. "Does," she began, her voice drifting off as she tried another button. The wipers at the back of the car started up. "Does this car have a radio?"

Sam silently reached over and shut off the back wipers before pressing another button. Static buzzed out of the speakers, and he twisted a knob until the sound of guitar and drums spilled out. Pip listened to it for a few seconds before she turned the knob again, searching through the different types of music.

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked. When she shrugged, he spoke again. "Well, what music do you like?"

She looked thoughtful for a few moments, though she knew she had no clue about any music. "My music taste is currently undergoing work," she finally said, drawing a blank. "What do you suggest?"

Sam hummed and fiddled with the knob again, static buzzing in between punctuated moments of quiet music. Whatever music that snuck in mostly sounded the same to her; usually involving the sound of guitar and drums. Suddenly a medley of unfamiliar instruments swelled from the radio for a moment, catching her attention before Sam turned the knob again. "Wait, wait," she said, holding up a hand. "Go back to that." He complied, and the music returned.

"Classical music?" he asked, glancing at her.

"That's what it is?" she asked, staring in wonder as the sound of the music resonated in her ears. "It sounds like so many instruments. How can there be so many?"

"It's an orchestra, they're usually pretty big."

Pip spent the rest of the car ride asking numerous questions about orchestras. Sam patiently answered her questions for a while, but eventually she could see the exhaustion painted on his face.

"How far are we going?" she asked, glancing out the window. She wasn't sure how long they had been at the warehouse, but it was dark now. It had started to rain, and the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.

Sam peered at one of the exit markers before he flicked the turn signal. "This should be good enough," he said. "I didn't want to stay anywhere too obviously close."

Pip sat in silence for the rest of the ride, pressed against the cold window.

They managed to find a dingy motel after a bit more driving, and the flickering sign through the rain-spattered windshield was a relieving sight. Pip felt better than before, since the effects of the handcuffs and devils trap had completely worn off and her wounds were already disappearing. But Sam looked more and more exhausted as the minutes went by. By the time they checked in, which took a while considering the state they were in, he was limping into the room, swaying as if he were about to tip over. Pip fluttered around him nervously, moving obstacles out of the way so he wouldn't trip over anything.

"Here," she said quietly, grabbing onto his arm and guiding him into a chair. "Stay there." She held her hands up, giving him a pointed look. Then she left the room in search of first aid supplies. When she returned, Sam still sat in the chair, his head in his hand. Despite his protests, she managed to get him to sit still while she went to work, patching up his wounds. "Unfortunately I don't have any lavender, but I have a spell that might help with the pain," she said while wrapping his arm in gauze. "Um, with your permission, of course." Her eyes flickered up to him uncertainly.

"Go ahead," he answered, his words heavy.

She gently drew a symbol on him with her finger, carefully marking the invisible strokes in her head. When she finished she held a hand over it, murmuring the words under her breath. A blue glow grew in her palm, growing brighter until it lit up both her and Sam's faces. She slowly moved her glowing palm over his arms, still mumbling the words. He sighed in relief as she worked, his muscles gradually relaxing underneath her hand.

"This is amazing," he breathed.

"Lean forward so I can get your back," she said, tugging lightly on his shoulder to guide him forward. Just as he started to move, there was a sudden shift in the air. She paused, her senses going on high alert.

"Pip?" Sam asked, lifting his head to look at her as he felt the hand on his shoulder tense. "What's wrong?"

She curled her other hand into a fist, the blue glow vanishing in a puff of smoke. Her nerves started thrumming, sensing danger. "Something's wrong," she said, glancing around the room.

"Is it him?" he asked, his muscles tensing as if he were going to stand up. She pushed down on his shoulder, gesturing him for to stay in the chair.

Amon's voice suddenly began screaming in her head, clawing and scraping at the walls of her mind as it grew in volume. She pressed her hands against her head, trying to block it out. Just as Sam reached for her in alarm, the door to their room exploded, flying off of its hinges and hitting the wall. Sam leaped out of his chair and reached for a gun just as Pip's father appeared in the doorway. Before Sam could reach his weapon, her father waved his hand and Sam flew back, slamming into the mirror on the back wall. Her father muttered a spell and spread his fingers wide before curling them into a fist. As he spoke, the shards of the mirror warped into a long spike behind Sam, puncturing his shoulder and drilling all the way through until he was impaled to the wall. Sam gave a loud cry, scraping at the glass spike. Blood oozed out of his shoulder, trickling onto his already bloodied shirt.

Pip stood frozen, staring in shock as Sam had been thrown across the room. When she felt her father's eyes on her, she dragged her view back to him. Her head moved reluctantly, unwilling to face him.

"Hello again, daughter," her father said, clasping his hands behind his back. He still looked the same as he always did, utilizing all the perks of being an immortal witch. His inky hair was gelled and styled, neatly combed back so that not a strand hung in his face. His face seemed boyish despite the upper-20s look he had, which was only accented by the small smile he was now giving Pip. His shoulders and heavy coat filled the shattered doorframe, even if the lack of a door supposedly gave him more room. As he smiled at her his eyes wrinkled, highlighting the laugh lines around his eyes.

Pip's words caught in her throat and she felt as if she were choking. The only sound in the room was Sam's struggle with the glass spike.

Her father seemed to be waiting for a reply from her, but when nothing came he spoke again. "I assume you know why I'm here, and what I intend to do. The only question is, will you make it simple, or not?"

Her heartbeat thundered, echoing the thunderstorm she had heard only a few minutes ago.

 _Run, already_ , Amon's voice bellowed, pulling her out of the froze stupor she was in. She bolted, aiming for the window that had shattered on her father's explosive entrance.

Her father gave a loud, dramatic sigh. "Wrong choice." He flicked his fingers at her and she felt her body stiffen, freezing in place. Her limbs slowly twisted, her body turning itself to face Sam where he stood impaled to the wall. "Say goodbye," her father said, his tone sickeningly sweet.

"Sam," she shouted desperately, struggling against the spell that held her in place. Her muscles felt like thick slabs of stones, not yielding to her attempts.

"Pip," Sam shouted back and he doubled his efforts, trying to tear his shoulder away from the glass spike. As he moved more blood spurted out and he grit his teeth, still pushing against the pain. "Pip, hang on."

Pip called his name once more before her vision started to fade, her father working another spell. Sam's face twisted in a shout was the last thing she saw as her sight went black.


	25. Chapter 25

A low moaning sound woke Pip up, slowly dragging her back from the blissful silence. The sound of it was almost inhuman, and she tried to lift her head to look for the source. Her head was uncooperative with her attempts to move, and the sudden queasy feeling that roiled in her gut gave the situation a sense of de ja vu. She had hoped that her quota for painful awakenings was filled already.

"Ugh," she groaned quietly, leaning forward. Her body sluggishly responded and she could practically hear her joints creaking as she moved. When her eyes peeled open, lamplight flooded her vision, and she blinked rapidly until her eyes adjusted. The bright light only sharpened the headache she could feel coming on. When she finally opened them again she sucked in a sharp breath, her memories flooding back in. Sam's face swam into her head, twisted into anger and pain as he pushed against the glass spike that trapped him to the wall. She lifted a shaky hand and pressed it to her forehead, suddenly scared that she had gotten Dean's brother killed. After a few moments of panic, she forced her thoughts back to the present, glancing around her.

She sat in her father's plush office and had apparently been unconscious in one of the velvet chairs parked in front of his desk. The familiar wooden paneling of the room looked uncharacteristically warm in the low lamplight. Everything about it screamed luxury and comfort, but instead of either of those things it gave Pip a sinking feeling of dread that trickled down her back.

She twisted around in the chair, gripping the low backing as she searched the room. As she did, she stiffened at the sight of a familiar face slumped against the back wall of the office. "Officer Denver," she gasped, breathless. She jumped out of the chair and hurried over to his limp form, wincing as her muscles protested at the sudden movement. "Officer Denver," she repeated, her hands fluttering over him as she kneeled down. "Officer Denver, can you hear me? Are you awake?"

He gave another low moan, his head lolling to the side. His skin was colored with patches of bruises along his arms and neck, some of them a bright purple, others aged into a slight green. Various scars and cuts also peppered his body, some of the wounds still open and weeping. He was still wearing his police uniform, the torn clothing stained with blood.

"Wake up, wake up, please wake up," she chanted desperately. She hesitated before gently cupping his face, her tiny hands gripping either side of his cheeks. His skin scraped like sandpaper against her hands. "Officer Denver, can you hear me?"

His eyes fluttered before he slowly opened them. "Whossat?" he slurred, his bloodshot eyes searching for her face. Slowly his eyes focused on her. His breathing pitched, wheezing slightly. "S'not safe." He started to shake his head, the cuts on his neck oozing as he did so. "S'not safe. Go."

"Stop, stop," she said, gripping his head tighter to keep it still. "Don't move. You need to stay still."

"Are they-" He took a deep breath, his body shuddering. "Are they here? Your friends?"

She stared at him helplessly for a few moments, not sure what answer would be the right one to tell him. "No," she finally said, dropping her head to glance awkwardly at the floor before looking back at him. "No, they're not here."

Officer Denver didn't respond, his eyes glazing over as they drifted to stare at a distant point in the room.

"Ah, I see you two got reacquainted."

Pip whirled around at the sudden voice, standing up. Her father stood in the doorway, the light from the hall behind him framing his bulky form. Her heartbeat kicked up at the sight of him, her nerves singing the familiar tune of _danger_ , _danger_ , _danger_.

 _Still looks like a prick_ , Amon muttered in her head. _I hope you're satisfied, Pip._

Her head twitched as she tried to shake Amon's voice off. "Why is he here?" she asked her father aloud, gesturing to Officer Denver. "He's not involved."

Her father glided over to his desk, pulling out a glass bottle filled with amber liquid and a matching glass tumbler from a drawer. The decorated grooves of the glass glittered in the lamplight. The action was so familiar, Pip fought down the urge to gag. "I wanted to find you," he responded simply. His statement was punctuated by a slight pop as he pulled the cork from the bottle. He carefully poured the drink into the glass. "I learned of your... escapades with the Winchesters in Iowa. One of my people saw you with our friend over here and had him delivered straight to me." He paused to take a sip from his drink, taking a few extra moments to savor it before he continued. "I questioned him and he was not forthcoming with information. I guess because of some sort of sense of pride or 'moral duty', perhaps, because he made very clear to me that he did not care for you or the brothers. 'I knew they were up to no good' or something along those lines." He sighed and took a longer swig from the tumbler before placing it on the desk. "Either way, he was too stubborn, and by the time he was willing to give the information I was looking for, he was too broken to be helpful. I guess it's lucky then, that you came straight to me anyway." He shot her a crooked smile, clasping his hands behind his back.

She stared at him in silence as he spoke, her eyes tracking his movements. Her nerves were still humming, tightly wound. When he finished speaking she remained silent, the sudden quiet swelling up and ringing in her ears.

"Well," her father spoke again, shattering the silence. "I brought you here, for a specific reason. You see, daughter, I have finally found a way to accomplish what I set out to do." He spread his arms wide, a smile still dancing on his face. "And soon, I won't have need of you anymore."

Her heartbeat stuttered, a icy fist of fear gripping her heart in her chest. She suddenly felt as if she couldn't get enough air in her lungs.

"But I will get to all of that in a moment," he continued. "There's a few things I want to take care of first, so let's get right to it." He held out a hand, extending it to gesture towards Officer Denver's slumped form. "Kill him."

She stiffened, her eyes widening as she stared at her father.

When she didn't move, his smile vanished. "I didn't think I stuttered."

 _Move already_ , Amon growled, sending a wave of anger through her. _Do something, anything at all. If you're going to get yourself killed at least hurry up and do it. Or, maybe even try and get us the hell out of here. But stop standing there._

Her feet remained rooted to the floor, even as she saw her father's eyes narrow. She liked to think it was her being brave against her father, but she secretly knew it was fear that kept her frozen.

"Hm," he hummed, watching her like a wolf. "Let's try this." He leaned against the desk, holding one hand up in the air. His fingers twitched, as if beckoning her forward.

She felt a sudden sharp twist in her chest, as if she had been stabbed from the inside and the knife was twisting around. She fell forward with a loud gasp, clutching at her dirty shirt. The pain abruptly increased, spreading along her chest and down her arms, up her neck and over her skull. Her cries crescendoed with the pain, her hands tangling themselves helplessly in her hair as she clutched at her head. Suddenly the pain stopped, and she lay curled on the floor, panting.

"Kill him," her father repeated.

She was ashamed to feel the tears well up, the warm beads curling along her lid. She blinked rapidly, trying to chase them away before her father could see.

There was a loud sigh above her and she was suddenly yanked off the floor, dangling in the air. Her father still leaned against the desk, a hand held high. Then he flicked his hand and she was released from the magic that was holding her up. She stumbled forward as her feet touched the ground, latching on to the chair to keep herself upright.

"I'm growing impatient. There are much more important things to get to." He crossed his arms, looking at her expectantly.

Pip took a deep breath, feeling her chest shudder as she did so. She slowly turned towards Officer Denver, mentally packing herself up. She imagined herself as a stone wall, her muscles stiffening as she moved. _I have a role to play_ , she thought, her face relaxing into a blank slate. _I am the villain in this story._

Officer Denver stared up at her as she faced him, his eyes glazed over as if he didn't really see her. His wheezing breath echoed louder now, his chest stuttering as it slowly moved up and down. Her mind carefully flexed, stretching out before her. She gradually reached towards Officer Denver, feeling her mind hover near him. She let out a slow breath. _Stone wall. Villain. You feel nothing._ She wrapped her mind around his head. She inhaled. Then she gave his head a sharp twist, the sudden snap of his neck echoing in the room. He gave a small gurgle, sliding to the side when she released him. She exhaled.

"At last," her father said, his voice dry.

Before she could think better of it, she lashed out at him with her mind, twisting slightly to face him. Her father lifted up a hand and she felt her mind halt before it reached him, straining against his magic. She watched as her father gave a familiar small smile, his eyes glittering at her. He twirled his hand and she could feel her mind twisting and wrapping in the air, following his movement. Her mind continued twisting around itself until she felt it tighten, a sharp pain growing in the base of her skull as it did. She took a staggering step back, trying to pull away. But her father curled his hand into a fist and then yanked at the air. She clutched at her head as her brain suddenly felt as if it split in two, a gasp escaping her.

"That was enjoyable, thank you," he said, uncurling his hand.

Her mind retracted, returning to her. The pain slowly faded away into a dull ache. She lowered her arms, forcing her panting breath to calm down. She watched her father closely, refusing to look at the body she knew was behind her. _Stone wall._

"Let's go onto the next order of business, then." Her father straightened and moved to the other side of the desk, opening one of the drawers. He reached in and pulled out a gleaming black revolver, holding it up to admire it. "After so many years of no luck in achieving what I set out to do, I finally managed to find a way." He lowered the gun slightly and looked at her, his eyes glinting. "I have the means to absorb Amon's abilities entirely."

An icy trickle of fear ran down the back of her neck.

"So, as I mentioned before, I have no need for a vessel for him anymore. Of course, you can hold on to him for a bit longer for me, but just until I can complete the spell. Come, look at this." He pushed aside the papers and books covering his desk. Giving her an ugly grin, he pressed a palm against the surface of the desk, murmuring a spell. A glyph glowed from the wood, the symbols flashing for a second before they disappeared. There was a sudden groan as a portion of the wall behind him shifted, slowly sliding to the side. Her father stepped out of the way as it moved, giving her a glance before turning his attention back to the wall.

A glass case sat tucked behind the now removed wall with a single clear pedestal inside. At the top of the pedestal sat a bright, glowing orb, it's light softly pulsing and flooding the dimly lit room. Pip squinted as she tried to look at it, struggling to see exactly what it was.

"Quite beautiful, it is," her father said, leaning forward to examine the orb. His reflection in the glass seemed to glare back at her. "This is the last ingredient I need for the spell. It's quite powerful stuff." He turned to look at her, looking like an excited child about to get his favorite toy. "Of course, I don't know exactly how this will go. New territory and all that." He stepped towards the desk, reaching for the revolver. "So I need to take all precautions. This is a rather... rudimentary method, but it's fast and dependable, so..." His voice trailed off as he cocked the gun, aiming at her.

She stiffened, staring at the gun that glared back at her.

The gun suddenly fired and she jumped at the sound.

"Oh, dear," her father said, pulling the gun back and shooting it a disappointed glance.

Pip slowly turned to look at the bullet hole in the wall behind her, her muscles barely responding as she tried to move. She felt frozen in place.

"Let's try this again."

She heard the gun cock again and barely had time to turn around before she felt the bullet punch into her gut. For a moment she just stood there, suspended in that moment of time. Then her brain kicked back into gear and she slowly hunched over in shock, her arms circling around her stomach. Her muscles moved stiffly, as if they weren't her own. _No._ The thought wormed it's way into her head as she stumbled forward onto her knees. _No, no no no._ She slowly uncurled her arms, staring in shock at the blood that stained them. She kept chanting the word in her mind as she numbly held her hands over the profusely bleeding wound, as if trying to hold herself together. As if trying to scoop the blood back into her. As if reversing the damage already done.

Her father watched her impassively, the gun dangling at his side. "Can't be too careful," he said. "Any number of things could happen. But at least now, even if everything goes terribly wrong for me, you're stuck with Amon." He gave her another small smile. "I just want you to understand that the only reason I'm doing this is because of the Winchesters. Strange, I know. But I'm certain they were some of the few people who could actually get rid of Amon, destroy my hard work. And you," he gave a low chuckle, "you were stupid enough not to take advantage of that." He paused. "But now that that's taken care of..."

Her head slowly lifted to look up at him, feeling like a dead weight on her shoulders.

"Let's get to the part I've been waiting for," he finished with a wide grin.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while! I've been busy with school and other obligations. Hopefully I didn't chase everyone away with my lack of updates. I hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think! Every comment helps.**

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 _Move._

Pip didn't realize she had been sitting there for several minutes until Amon's voice finally boomed in her skull. She jolted out of her trance, gazing about the room with dull eyes. Her stomach was still bleeding profusely and soaked into the soft carpet beneath her knees. The light from the glowing orb still pulsed. Pip could hear the deep tones of her father's voice as he worked a spell. _The_ _spell_. She was going to die very soon if she did nothing to stop it.

 _Why bother_ , she thought numbly, staring at her blood-soaked arms. Even if she managed to escape her father again, she would never be able to get rid of Amon. She was stuck with him for the rest of her life. The bullet wound in her stomach marked her death even if she wasn't truly dead. She was surprised that it didn't even hurt as much as she thought it would; being shot felt more like a forceful nudge into her gut. Maybe she was just blocking out the pain.

 _It won't be so bad to die like this_ , she thought, suddenly feeling very tired again. She stared at the floor, watching the blood ooze out like a slow animal crawling from its den. There was a sense of weightlessness, as if she was floating away even while staring at her knees anchored to the floor. Her stomach felt fluttery, or what was left of it, anyway. The world shifted underneath her.

 _Hell no_ , Amon snarled suddenly, drilling sharply into her mind. She stiffened at the sensation and her fingers dug into her wound. Her mind snapped into place, suddenly orienting herself from the sensation of floating. _I'm not going down with the likes of you_ , he continued, his voice grating.

 _What could we possibly do?_ she hissed mentally. She felt torn, struggling to decide what to do. Give up or fight? She carefully peeled her arms away from their grip around her stomach. It was a gruesome mess, but it undoubtedly would start to heal eventually. It would not kill her.

Her father's voice suddenly stopped crafting the spell, catching her attention. She looked up in time to see him whirl around to face her. His eyes glittered with excitement, and the orb's light lit them up even more, making them glow. "Time for the next part," he said, striding over to her. He gripped her arm tight, pulling her to her feet. "Come along."

She stumbled, still in a slight daze. Distantly she wondered why he didn't use magic to simply drag her over. It was what he normally did. _Maybe he is distracted_ , she thought, gazing at the orb with a blank look. When he suddenly released her she fell down again, collapsing into a heap next to him.

"Up," he commanded, though he didn't make a move to force her up. He stared eagerly at the orb, practically ignoring her. There was a circle of symbols drawn around the pedestal that held the orb, the lines and letters pulsing lightly to match the beat of it.

She struggled to her feet, her limbs feeling numb. The bullet wound wasn't going to kill her, but it certainly had an effect on her body. After the initial shock wore off, it'd started to throb and the pain was only growing.

Her father had started saying the spell again, his hands lifted palms-up. He turned to her again, still forming the words as he pulled a long, silver knife out of his suit. It looked more like a small sword rather than a knife. Pip was unsure what to call it.

"Good thing you brought your angel friend with you earlier," he said, studying the blade. "These things are handy." His hand suddenly whipped out, grabbing onto her wrist. She pulled back in surprise but he gripped her tight, squeezing. The blade flashed wickedly as he suddenly slashed through her palm, blood immediately welling up. She flinched but bit down on her tongue, forcing back the cry that rose in her throat.

He tugged on her wrist, guiding her closer to the orb. Holding her hand above one of the smaller circles surrounding the pedestal, he squeezed her hand into a fist until blood dripped onto the floor. When he finally released her she snatched her hand back, cradling it against her chest. She didn't know what the sword was, but it hurt worse than a bullet.

Her father held his hands up again, his head tipped back. A small smile danced on his lips as he continued the spell, the light of the orb growing brighter and brighter. Pip grew more panicked, realizing that the spell was about to do its job. She lashed out with her mind, but it recoiled when it hit an invisible wall near her father.

Gritting her teeth, she tried again from another angle, only to have her mind slam to a stop before it reached him. He didn't even turn to look at her. The orb only grew brighter still. A hum of energy started to build in the room, crackling over her skin. She could feel a sharp pressure building at the back of her nose as the spell built, squeezing. Heartbeat pounding her ears, her mind flexed again and again, trying to attack from all directions only to be driven back every time.

She stared desperately as the light started to surround her father. The pressure at the back of her nose spread behind her eyes and into the base of her skull, turning into a sharper pain. She could feel her nose bleeding.

 _Focus, Pip_ , Amon snapped.

Whirling around, she searched the desk. She pushed aside the papers and documents, knocking over the tumbler and bottle that had been sitting at the edge. A fancy letter opener glittered at her and she snatched it up, lunging at her father with the blade held high.

She suddenly slammed into the invisible wall, thrown back a bit from the force of it. The light's energy danced across her skin as she collided with it, static buzzing and tickling her skin. Though the first attempt failed, she slashed again and again, trying to push through the light. Sparks flew as she sliced at it but it did not yield.

She finally gave up, panting as she squinted at the outline of her father's figure. It was becoming more difficult to see him as he continued chanting. She cursed loudly, spinning around as she searched the room for something, anything. _Think, think_ , she chanted frantically, rubbing furiously at her nose as more blood dripped out. _Do something!_ she shouted in her head, though she wasn't sure if she was saying it to herself or Amon. When her father suddenly stopped speaking she stiffened, the urge to flee boiling under her skin. She didn't think she would get very far, though.

"Almost done," her father said, his smile still curling around the edges of his mouth.

The spell pounded at her brain, the pressure still building.

Her father spoke the final word, holding his hands towards her as if throwing the light that had surrounded him. Pip flew back as a force suddenly barreled into her, slamming into her chest like a brick. Instead of hitting the floor she felt it surround her, coiling over her skin and looping around her limbs. She shuddered at the sensation, trying to pull away. But the magic only tightened, spreading. She could feel the force of it pool at her chest, gathering there. She grunted as she struggled against it, her mind flashing wildly as it tried to pull away.

Suddenly the light pierced her chest and her head flew back, a scream ripping through her throat before she could stop it. The light began to burrow inside her, a sharp pressure curling inside of her ribcage. The entire room shuddered around her as her mind began to struggle harder, wrestling against the light. Her father only watched expectantly, leaning forward.

She could feel the light dig inside her, a trail of burning pain following it as it moved. She clawed at her chest helplessly until her arms were pulled back.

 _We are going to die_ , Amon said bluntly. The words dropped in her mind like stones, sinking their way into her gut. _We are going to die_. She didn't know if he said it again or if it was her instead.

The light suddenly wrapped around inside her mind and pulled.

She screamed again as she felt herself suddenly start to split apart. Half of her was suddenly uprooted and ripped away. The light shifted and then pulled again, the pain growing sharper. Pip's scream strangled in her throat. _No, no._ As she felt a part of her peel away she suddenly reached out with her mind, latching on to the part of her that was still barely hanging on. _No._ Following her instincts she yanked back, pulling on the half that the light was tearing away.

The light jerked harder and she could feel the pressure rise, static snapping. She pulled harder but could still feel that part of her peel away, slowly being ripped off. "Amon, help," she said breathlessly, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. Did she speak out loud? She reached out to the part of her where she could feel Amon, desperately pulling him forward even as the light tried to wrench him away.

There was a heartbeat of hesitation before she felt a surge of energy flood into her mind. The feeling of it was strange, a foreign impression that somehow felt alien and yet familiar at the same time. She could feel it feed her mind like a fire, though, and the light suddenly yielded to her pull as her own energy doubled.

 _Much better_ , Amon said. She could feel his grin.

She gathered up the energy, wrapping it around her mind as if it were a rope. Then she yanked again even as she shoved the light out of her. The light immediately released her and retracted, unsheathing itself from her chest. She felt herself snap back into place, the torn parts of her blending together again.

The light fizzled slightly for a few seconds before it rapidly gathered itself up, the magic unraveling. Pip fell to floor as it suddenly dropped her. There was a quiet _pop_ and the pressure at the back of her nose suddenly vanished. The light was gone.

Her father stood staring at her, his expression enraged. "What did you do?" he seethed, striding towards her.

She crawled backwards as he approached, staring up at him with dread.

"What did you do?" he repeated, his hand flicking up. She felt herself yanked into the air as he did so. She was dragged forward, forced to meet his burning eyes.

She stared in silence for a few moments, her eyes wide as her brain raced for an answer. Then she smoothed her face, forcing the terror out of it. _I don't owe him that_ , she thought. _Stone wall._

His reaction was rapid as he saw her face change. She felt a sharp crack as he backhanded her across the face. The sound of it echoed in the room as they both stood in silence. His incensed breathing was the only other sound. After a few seconds he let out a slow breath, and she watched as he carefully composed himself again.

"Very well, then," he said finally. "I'll figure this out." He gave her a small smile. "Waiting a bit longer isn't that hard. In the meantime..." As his voice trailed off he gripped her arm and forced her to follow him. "In the meantime I'll tuck you away somewhere until I can properly finish this."

She squirmed in his grip, clutching his hand to keep herself upright as he walked fast. She glanced one last time at Officer Denver's immobile form before they left the room.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: If someone had told me a few years ago that I'd write a 50,000 word story with a plan for more, I probably would've laughed. Also, thank you for the kind words and support. Hope you enjoy!**

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Pip was dragged down the hallway, the environment―and situation―too familiar to her. As a child she'd learned to follow obediently behind her father's step, as dutiful and observant as a guard dog. If there had been others in the hallway in the past, her father's workers or guards, they would step aside, immediately glancing away. This time, though, the hallway was completely empty and Pip could barely keep up with the pace. Her instincts kept pulling her in the opposite direction.

They turned down a familiar flight of stairs and Pip's gut shrank back, knowing what lay at the bottom. Her father shot her a smile as they reached a door. "I'm sure you remember this place," he said, opening the door as he did.

A small room lay beyond. Arguably more of a cell than a room, consisting of stone walls and a bare floor. It was empty except for a mattress in the corner and a small window, too small to escape from. A large devil's trap encompassed the entire room, its white paint glaringly bright against the dull colors. Pip hesitated at the threshold until she was pushed in.

"Make yourself at home," her father said crisply. "I have a lot of work to do."

Pip said nothing as the heavy door shut behind him, shrouding the room in darkness. She had no idea how long she'd been with her father, but the window revealed it was dark outside. Her mind roiled, different thoughts flickering through for a few moments before it moved on to the next. She wondered what the Winchesters were doing; if Sam was okay, if they were back at the bunker with Castiel, if they were burning down more warehouses now. Maybe they were even looking for her, but she didn't put much hope to the thought.

She stared down at her bloody stomach. The pain had faded and she could tell it'd started to heal, though it would take a few days to finish properly. A few days before she would be able to return to the brothers. Assuming, of course, that she could actually manage to escape. The realization that she had lost her only chance to ever be a normal human being washed over her. A surge of grief rose up, tears pricking at her eyes, but she pushed it back down and blinked the tears away. There was no time now.

She studied her injured hand instead, squinting at it in the dark. Unlike her stomach, it still hurt and showed no signs of healing. Whatever her father used had been enough to actually harm her. She shivered at the idea as she tore off a section of her shirt that was already ripped by the bullet, wincing as the movement hurt her hand. It probably wasn't healthy to wrap her hand in an already-soiled bandage, but Pip didn't imagine that she would have to worry about germs.

Carefully she wrapped the makeshift bandage around her wound, flinching as she pulled it tight. It was difficult trying to tie it with one hand, but eventually she pulled it off. _Now what?_ she thought, peering at the window and then glancing around the room. She'd already decided to not give up, but now that meant she had to escape, and she had no idea how to go about doing so.

 _Wait, Ollie_ , she realized suddenly, holding up her other hand eagerly and staring at the rose. If the mysterious witch managed to save her this time, she knew she would be able to trust him.

"Ollie," she whispered fiercely, squeezing her eyes shut. The sound echoed dully in the room. "Ollie." She cracked open an eye, glancing around for a sign of his familiar suit and slick, black hair.

The room remained empty.

"Ollie," she repeated, her voice louder now. "Ollie, please." She dug harder into her palm, blood welling up again. "Ollie."

The silence rang in her ears.

She cursed, gripping her wrist desperately as she dug her fingers harder into her palm. Her eyes squeezed shut again, painting the picture of him in her head. "Ollie." She wracked her brain for his other names. "Ollie, Shylock. Um... Ahab." Struggling to remember if she'd forgotten any, she did a full circle, scanning the room.

 _Obviously he can't hear you._ Amon's sour voice pierced her racing mind.

She grit her teeth, letting out an angry grunt. Her temper boiled but she pushed it down. It might've been Amon's anger, anyway. She could never be sure.

"Wait," she said aloud, turning back towards the mattress with a hopeful expression. A sudden memory danced in her head. This had been her room for many, many years, and she had managed to cut through the devil's trap at one point. It had been a cut the size of a hair, so small it was barely noticeable, and she'd hidden it under the mattress. _Let's hope he never found it_ , she thought. She faced the door, taking slow steps towards it and staring at the devil's trap as if it were going to bite her.

She sucked in a breath and held it as she approached the edge, chewing on her lip. _Here goes..._ She carefully stepped out of the circle and froze, half-expecting alarms to suddenly go off. When nothing happened she let out a loud exhale, practically bouncing in place with a grin. She darted to the door and tried the handle. It was locked but she stretched her mind, feeling it loop through the tumblers until the door opened with a click.

 _Good, this is good_ , she encouraged herself, nervously glancing both ways down the hallway. With the coast clear she cautiously started moving, her senses on high alert. She would have to go upstairs again and pass her father's study before she could get outside. Her heartbeat thudded painfully in her chest. Distractedly she wondered why she still had a heartbeat anyway, if the human part of her was probably dead.

Pip stopped before she reached the top step, searching the hallway above before she continued. The place remained empty and the silence hung heavy. Her shoulders felt as if they were drooping from the weight of the quiet. Slowly she crept towards her father's study and pressed herself against the wall, peeking inside. The room was empty and she let out a slow breath before stepping inside.

 _What are you doing?_ Amon hissed. _You don't need to be in here to escape._

 _I'm looking for my pouch_ , she answered and blocked out the string of curses Amon let loose.

 _I could not have been stuck with a stupider human_ , he snarled. _How have you lived so long, I wonder? Your time has passed long ago._

 _Help me, then_ , she replied simply, knowing he could be no help. She tore through the drawers in her father's desk, tossing the items out as she searched. A number of drawers were filled with just papers and did not need searching through, but she emptied them out anyway. After the last drawer yielded nothing, she stood up, searching the room with a sigh of frustration.

Amon echoed the feeling, his anger searing her nerves. A flicker of his own thoughts shuttered through her mind, a jumble of images and words that she didn't bother piecing together.

She strode towards a cabinet against the wall, throwing open a drawer and digging through. The sight of a pouch made her heart leap, but it sank again when she lifted up a pouch bomb instead. She glared at it but tucked it into her pants pocket. When she finished searching the cabinet with no luck she paced around the room, a feeling of desperation squeezing in her chest. _It's not here._

 _No shit_ , Amon said, his voice flat.

Her eyes razed the room, desperately hunting for any sign of her pouch or where it might be hidden. _Maybe he has it with him_ , she thought, the thought sinking into her gut. She would have to leave without it, but she didn't know how successful her escape would be without a way to hide from her father. Her eyes fell on Officer Denver's body and she flinched, forgetting that he had been there. A surge of guilt bubbled up as she stared at him. He had actually _protected_ them. _As much as he could have._ The thought drifted in her head.

 _Wait_ , she thought, stiffening. A sick feeling twisted in her gut and she took a reluctant step towards the body. Her father knew she would have felt guilty, and that she would try to forget about what she'd done and stay as far away as possible. She approached him with sluggish steps before kneeling next to him, the feeling so similar to when she'd first kneeled next to him. Regret twisted in her gut like a knife. As she felt his pockets tears burned her eyes, her arms like lead. When she felt a familiar bump in one of the pockets her eyes flickered shut, instantly both relieved and repelled. "I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling her pouch out and curling it into her fist. "I'm so sorry."

"Interesting."

The sudden voice made her leap to her feet, her mind striking at the source. Her father loomed in the doorway, his hand flashing up and stopping her mind before it reached him.

Amon's voice roared in her mind, the words blending and melding too much for her to understand.

On instinct she spread her mind out in a wide arc, throwing it at her father with a sudden force. He kept his hand held up and pushed it back, barely twitching. She pressed harder and carefully reached into her pocket, her hand closing around the pouch bomb. "Activus," she whispered, her voice fierce. Then she threw the bomb at her father. "Ignis!" Her voice came out as a scream and the magic clicked sharply in her chest.

Her father stumbled back in surprise as the explosion enveloped him, his face twisted into shock and anger. Pip's mind flexed, throwing her father back when his defenses slackened. Her feet burst forward then, bolting out of the room and down the hall. A loud roar boomed from behind her as her father recovered, and the whole house shuddered and groaned underneath her as she felt magic build in the air. She willed her legs faster, her heartbeat frantically stuttering in her chest.

Suddenly the walls exploded around her and she stumbled to her knees, wood and plaster raining down on her. Amon drilled her mind sharply, jerking her forward. She scrambled to her feet again, leaping over fragments of the wall that now littered the floor. There was the sound of a spell behind her, and Pip jumped to the side just as a burst of fire flew down the hall, crackling as it passed the spot where she just was. Suddenly it swerved, turning around and barreling towards her again. Surprised, she fumbled out of the way. The flames licked at her arm and she sucked in a sharp breath at the scorching pain, her skin tingling. She recovered and forced her legs forward, diving down a flight of stairs just as the flames suddenly exploded in the hall. There was another angry bellow behind her.

The stairs spat her out into another hallway and she skidded into the wall, pushing herself off of it and flying down the stretch of carpet. _Almost there._ The thought shuddered in her bones. She could make it.

Suddenly the floor fell away beneath her feet, the carpet and wood crumbling. A gasp escaped her as she fell forward, rolling out of the way of the hole that was now where she once was. She pushed herself to her feet again, her breath coming out in sharp staccatos. There was another flight of stairs and she jumped down them, bracing herself as she slammed into the wall at the bottom. The staircase fed into a wider set of white marble steps that gently curved down into a large lobby area, a second set of steps reflected on the other side of the room. The whole room was lit up in bright, golden lights, bathing the room in a yellow glow. Huge wooden doors sat a few yards in front of both staircases, and Pip's heartbeat picked up at the sight.

The lights in the room wavered as Pip raced down the steps, skipping over as many steps as she dared. The marble cracked underneath her, the lines spider-webbing underneath her feet. _Almost there!_ The thought thundered in her head as the doors gradually grew closer and closer. To Pip it seemed like years.

She flexed her mind as she finally hurdled over the last steps, punching it through the thick wood on the doors with everything she had. The doors exploded out, splinters sprinkling the air. Another roar shook the room behind her as she vaulted through the doorway, the darkness surrounding her.

"Ollie!" she screamed, curling her fist tight and picturing the familiar dark eyes. She continued running forward, shouting all the names he gave her. She could feel a sharp pressure building in her chest as her father worked a spell behind her. Her legs burned.

Suddenly she spotted a wisp of dark smoke a few yards ahead of her, and she desperately charged towards it, her legs stretching. _Please make it_ , she repeated in her head, her arms pumping furiously. She could feel the physical weight of her father's spell press down on her. _Please make it._ A sharp pain grew in her chest, her father pulling her back. Her feet scraped against the ground.

 _No!_ she shouted, straining against the pull and taking a last desperate dive for freedom.

The smoke reached forward and enveloped her, plunging her into darkness.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Sorry that it's so short; trying to segway without rushing. I'm thinking of going through and combining the old chapters so there aren't so many. Let me know what you guys think, and I hope you enjoy. :)**

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Pip tumbled into the room, barreling forward until she collided with what felt like a bookshelf. Books and other items rained down on her, banging loudly as they hit the ground. Slight cuts from shattered glass dotted her skin but disappeared almost as quickly as they came. She hissed out a curse and rolled on to her side, curling up. When the world finally seemed to settle around her, she lay still for a few moments, panting. Her heartbeat pounded so hard she could feel her whole body shudder from it. It was blissfully silent in the room, and her eyes flickered shut as she basked in it. _That was close_ , she thought, her body shaking slightly at the memory. She could almost feel her father pressing down on her now.

"Get up, Pip, there's no time." Ollie's voice pierced her thoughts, pulling her back. His voice sounded strained, an edge to it she wasn't used to hearing from him. Not that she knew him well enough to begin with.

Pip rolled on to her back, adjusting to push aside a book that had wedged itself between her shoulder blades. She gazed up at Ollie as her breath finally started to slow. "What's happening?" she asked, reluctant to get up. _Am I going to have to run again?_

She took a quick glance around the room. It looked like a dusty attic or office, filled with boxes and papers. Stranger objects, more magical in nature, also peppered the room. There were a surprising amount of dreamcatchers and crystal rocks hanging on the walls and stuffing the shelves. There were no doors or windows as far as she could see, but it felt... cozy, rather than confining.

Ollie stood at the center of the room. His hair was mussed, thick strands of it flopping forward into his face. His eyes stared at her with an intense gaze, pinning her to the floor, and he was hunched forward as if ready for a fight. She could feel the pressure of magic crackling in the air. At the sight of him, Pip scrambled to her feet, staring at him cautiously.

"Your father is trying to get in," he finally responded, his voice calm despite his stormy appearance. There was still a tense undertone to it. His dark eyes carefully tracked her as she stood up, looking like a wolf ready to pounce. "I'm able to keep him out for now, but, naturally, I cannot do so for too long. Fortunately he hasn't recovered entirely from his spell, otherwise I don't believe I could keep him away at all. Or that you could have escaped in the first place." He suddenly strode towards her, his steps purposeful and determined. She flinched back on instinct as his eyes bored into her. "So there's no time now for you to relax. You recovered your pouch, I hope?"

She nodded, touching it in her pocket for reassurance.

"Good," he said. "I'm going to send you back to the bunker, then. As long as you stay near the Winchesters with that pouch, your father won't be able to find them either. And I'm sure the bunker has been warded by its previous owners." He suddenly reached towards her.

"Wait," she said, stepping out of reach and then immediately bracing herself. She expected an angry backlash from him. If it had been her father she certainly would have received one. Instead he calmly lowered his hand, looking at her expectantly. "I can't―I can't go back yet. Not like this." She gestured down to her stomach. "It will take a few days to heal, and I can't let them see I've survived a wound like this. There will be too many questions and I don't know if I can convince them to believe whatever I say."

Suddenly the room around them trembled, more books throwing themselves from the shelves and a few crystals detaching from the ceiling and walls. Ollie tensed while the place shook, gritting his teeth. "You can't stay here," he said finally. "I'll send you to a town near the bunker. Just follow the road east when you are ready to go back to them." He reached for her again.

Pip's heart jumped in her throat. She suddenly didn't want to go back out there. Especially not alone. "Wait, Ollie―" She reached forward and brushed his hand to stop him.

There was a sudden feeling of falling and her stomach dropped. For a few moments there was just a sense of weightlessness and all awareness of up or down vanished. Her feet finally touched ground before she understood what was happening and she struggled to regain her balance, the world slowly swimming into focus around her. The whole process was short, but it rattled her enough to never want to do it again.

The dusty room was gone, replaced by a small town she guessed was just west of the bunker. There was a loud buzz of insects around her, filling the silence of the night. The cozy warmth of the room had been replaced by a sudden brittle chill that settled deep in Pip's bones. She wrapped her jacket around her tighter, her teeth already beginning to chatter.

She took another look around and cursed quietly, the word disappearing into a visible puff of breath and fading away into the night. "Need to find a motel," she whispered to herself, turning in a circle to examine the buildings around her. It was an incredibly small town, if town was even the word for it. She was pretty sure she could see all four ends of the town from where she stood, only an endless stretch of fields beyond. The place was quiet, everyone no doubt tucked in to bed already.

Pip picked a random direction and went, wrapping her arms around herself tightly as she walked. She felt tired enough to sleep for a year, and she found herself wishing for the bunker now. Despite the foreboding exterior, the bunker had felt safe and warm. Or maybe it had just been the brothers, she realized. The memory of her curled up at the foot of a motel bed wrapped in Sam's sweatshirt swam in her head.

An image of a gun pointed at her head quickly ripped through the other memory, replacing it. Sam's face stared at her impassively from behind the gun. She shook her head to chase both memories away.

 _This is the life I have resigned myself to_ , Amon suddenly said, scattering her thoughts. _Forced to watch as some stupid girl wonders, "Maybe they will be different." You thought the Reverend was nice and look what he did to you. The Winchesters are_ _hunters_ _, Pip. And you are the hunted. They just don't realize it yet._

 _I'd like to remind you that you're what they'd be hunting. Not me_ , she responded, her voice sour.

 _Thanks to your father, we are now one and the same. You are nothing without me._ She could feel a grin growing on him. _Besides, now you've lied to them. I doubt they will be forgiving about that._

Pip's mouth twisted as she thought up a retort, but a sudden sign caught her attention. It read "Bed & Breakfast," but the latter half of the sign was faded to the point that it said "Bed & Break" instead. Pip hurried towards it, squinting until she could read the smaller text on the sign. "Barn out back," she read out loud, her voice barely a whisper. She looked up at the house. It was a simple white house with a porch, arguably nice for such a small town. A small wooden barn peeked out from behind, originally painted white as well though most of the paint had chipped away.

Pip broke into a jog, making a beeline towards the barn. The idea of laying down somewhere and sleeping, even in a barn, sounded heavenly. When she reached the doors they were only locked with a simple padlock covered in patches of rust and grime. She contemplated just snapping the lock with her mind, her aching limbs certainly gave her a reason to do it. Instead she carefully fit her mind inside the lock, gently feeling for the tumblers. The thing trembled in her hand and she was afraid it would just disintegrate. Thankfully the lock released, the shackle popping out as if it were coming up for air.

Pip quickly looped the lock out of the doors and glanced around her before slipping inside. Instantly the smell of vanilla washed over her as the door slowly closed behind her. It was too difficult to make out her surroundings completely, but she could make out general shapes. She carefully moved forward, gently feeling her way.

After bumping into a few tables and chairs, she finally found the bed pressed up against the other end of the barn. Relieved, she flopped into it and curled under the covers, pulling down one of the pillows and wrapping herself around it. The barn was freezing and the sheets did little to help, but it would have to work.

Pip's eyes fluttered shut, the brother's guns the last thing she saw before she fell asleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Thank you all again for the kind words, reviews, and support. :)**

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Pip dreamed of Amon.

She couldn't remember where her dream started, but she suddenly found herself in a dark room. Wooden floorboards under her feet stretched on until they disappeared into the darkness where she couldn't see anything else. A figure stood in front of her with their back facing her. Their small shoulders and brown hair were so familiar to her, she knew instantly that she was looking at herself. She also knew, somehow, that it was Amon.

Amon turned around to face her, her own reflection staring back at her with a sour look. "What are you doing here?" he asked. The question jolted her, the surreal moment suddenly grounded by the normality of the question. She thought she'd been stuck in the nightmares Amon typically tortured her with at night. But this time he seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Or herself.

"Why do you look like me?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"I am you," he replied. He smiled. Not-Pip smiled. She realized now that she didn't have a very nice smile. Or maybe it was just Amon.

"No, you're not," she said, her voice firm. She wasn't falling for that.

His―her―smile vanished, his lips pursing slightly. "I don't have much choice, do I? My real form is not something so easily tangible for your kind. Your brain outfitted me in... this." He picked at the similar red sweatshirt and gestured to her mirror self.

"So I control what you look like?" she asked, her brows lifting in surprise. The whole conversation felt so bizarre. The edges of her vision seemed blurred, and she had to focus hard in order to see everything clearly.

"Of course not," he said, suddenly striding towards her. The movement startled her and she took a half a step back. "It's the default, but I can change it if I want to. I have a lot of control here." He grinned, though it looked more like a nasty sneer. She could feel him pressing against her mind, tiny pinpricks of pain dancing across her skull as he moved towards her. His skin morphed, blurring and changing so fast Pip couldn't actually see what exactly was happening. When he stopped in front of her his look finally settled down, showing a different person than before.

He looked like a thirty-year-old male now, blue-eyed and broad-shouldered. His figure was slim, but cut into angular squares and rectangles that showed he was built rather than out of shape. His face looked deceivingly innocent. Lifting up his arms, he turned them around and examined himself, a smug smile dancing on his lips. "I used a body like this before. Really liked it, was sad to lose it." He seemed to have forgotten she was there as he flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders.

Pip examined the new body warily. It was strange to physically see Amon, though she knew he wouldn't truly get to keep it. It was only there for as long as she got to see it. "Having fun with dress-up?" she asked, absentmindedly reaching forward to adjust the black t-shirt he was now wearing.

He suddenly snatched her wrist, stopping her. She jumped, startled both at the sudden movement and the sensation. For a moment they both stood there in heavy silence until she realized she was actually touching Amon. Staring at the arm holding her wrist, she reached with her other hand to grip his arm, feeling the skin. "I can feel you," she said, her voice hollow with shock.

He stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Yes," he said, releasing her arm. She noticed he relaxed, as if he'd been afraid she was going to do something to him.

She picked up his hand, turning it over to examine it, her eyes wide. "This is... so... strange." Her voice sounded distant in her ears. She wasn't even sure if she was speaking out loud, though it didn't really matter. He could always hear her thoughts anyway.

Amon huffed, his expression annoyed though he didn't pull away. He watched as she flexed his individual fingers. It was him, but it wasn't him. She knew that, but it was difficult to grasp. Or was she just dreaming about this conversation and it wasn't really happening?

A scream shattered Pip's dream, and she was suddenly sucked back into consciousness, her mind flaring up in a panic. With a sharp gasp her eyes snapped open, her heartbeat urging her to her feet. The first few moments she forgot where she was, struggling to remember why exactly she was in a nice bed and surrounded by antique-looking furniture. Her head swiveled around as she tried to take in her surroundings.

Her eyes zeroed in on a woman staring at her horror, tiny hands clasped over her mouth. The woman was dressed in a nice white dress, her blonde hair styled and curled as if she'd been planning to go out somewhere before she'd stumbled upon Pip.

Pip remembered sneaking into the barn now. It had been too dark for her to see the rest of the room, but now sunlight filtered in and lit everything up. The fact that most of the furniture was white only made things brighter.

"Bum!" the woman suddenly screeched, picking up a book that had been lying on one of the tables and hurling it at Pip. "Dirty hobo, get out of here!"

Pip danced back in surprise, her mind still playing catch-up with last night's events and the current situation. The book thudded harmlessly to the ground in front of her, the white pages seeming to melt into the white carpet. Her mind writhed around her and she struggled to hold it back. "Wait, please―" She ducked as another book flew her way.

"Just _look_ at what you've done to the sheets! Oh Lord," the woman wailed, the words formed by her bright red lips. "Couldn't you have bothered someone else?"

Pip glanced at the sheets, wincing at the bloody sight. She probably looked no better. "I'm... I'm sorry," she stammered, her hands held up as if to placate the woman. "I just needed a place to sleep―"

"Get _out_ ," the woman screamed again, following it up with a vase this time. Pip ducked again as the ceramic smashed into the wall.

 _At this rate she's going to make a bigger mess than I did_ , Pip thought, slowly moving towards the exit that lay on the other side of the woman. "I'm going, I'm sorry." She stammered out a string of apologies, her voice smooth so as not to startle the lady.

The woman watched her carefully, but had stopped tossing items. Her hands were curled up into threatening fists. "I'm going to call the police, and I'm going to describe exactly what you look like to them. My husband is an officer and I'm going to let him know about this, so don't think you'll get away with it." She punctuated her words with a finger jabbed in Pip's direction.

Pip skipped the last few steps out the door, eager to leave the barn behind. The stale vanilla smell of it had started to make her queasy. She continued at a steady jog to put as much space between her and the barn as quickly as possible. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the woman standing protectively in the doorway, glaring daggers into Pip's back. After the night she'd had, Pip was hardly scared of the woman.

Pip slowed her pace after a block, taking a moment to lean against a building to think. She'd had some time to sleep, mostly, but now she needed to move on to the next step. _Food, drink, new clothes_ , she recited, going through her mental list. After a few moments of thinking, she examined her wounded hand. _Maybe some medical supplies_ , she added. She wasn't holding out much hope for the latter, though.

Lifting her head, she took a look at her surroundings. The town seemed even smaller in the daylight than it had last night. The buildings around her seemed mostly residential, and she wasn't even sure there was somewhere she could get the things on her list, unless she stole from one of the houses.

 _Follow the road east_. Ollie's words echoed in her head. She would have to get cleaned up before she could go anywhere, and that was if her stomach had healed enough. For a moment she considered calling Ollie again. _He could make my life easier and zap me into a motel with a nice shower_ , she thought. Her fingers curled into a fist, the temptation dancing in her head. But the image of Ollie flashed in her head, his expression predatory and dark as he watched her. She relaxed her hand. _Calling Ollie is not an option_. Last she saw him, he was trying to keep her father out, and she had no way of knowing if he'd been successful or not.

Sighing, she rubbed her hands over her face, no doubt wiping blood and dirt on her cheeks. _Food, drink, clothes._ The list repeated in her head and she took off in a random direction, determined to start somewhere.

Half an hour later Pip stood tucked in one of the few alleyways of the town, clutching a bundle of clothes in her arms. Fortunately there had been something called a "thrift store" near a general goods store. Pip recognized the second place as a good source for food. _And where I'd gotten caught by Sam and Dean_ , she added sourly. She'd found a diner as well, surprisingly enough, and her stomach growled at the smell of the place just by passing by. But she didn't attempt to go in, no matter how much she wanted to.

She changed quickly, imagining what it would be like to eat in a diner. No doubt they would have the burgers she'd had before. Her mouth watered at the thought.

After she was in a fresh set of clothes, Pip wrapped the red sweatshirt around her waist. She'd stolen another sweatshirt from the thrift store, but she was reluctant to let go of the red one. Somehow she liked the color. After she tucked her pouch securely into her new jacket pocket, Pip slumped to the ground and dug into the food and bottle of soda she'd managed to get her hands on.

With her belly full, Pip took a closer look at her hand. The wound was ugly, the skin having reopened several times after extensive use. She flexed her fingers a few times, wincing at the stinging pain that shot through her arm as she did so. She wasn't sure how long she could leave it alone.

Moving on to her stomach, Pip carefully lifted up her new shirt. Most of the blood was dry and sticky now, and the wound was already mostly sealed. _I'll give it one more day_ , she thought. Soon it would start to scab over. Maybe she'd just been paranoid again, after all it was unlikely the brothers would ever want to see her stomach area. But Pip knew she'd needed time away from the brothers, not just for her wound to heal, but to get over the fact that she could never be human anymore.

Pip let out a long sigh, tipping her head back to lean against the rough wall behind her. The sensation of the bullet hitting her replayed in her head, the gun glinting at her as she stared up at it. Her father's eyes boring into her. With a grunt she hung her head in her hands, pulling her knees up to her chest. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

 _You haven't been known to make very good decisions_ , Amon said, his voice sliding through her mind like oil.

Her nose wrinkled at the sound―sensation―of it. She'd forgotten about Amon and the dream she had. She was very grateful that Amon would never have a physical form.

 _Was that a dream?_ she asked him. _Was it really you?_

She could feel his temper simmering, a low hum of anger buzzing in the back of her skull. _No, it wasn't a dream, and yes, it was me,_ he finally answered after a few moments of silence. She was a bit surprised about the lack of a sarcastic reply.

 _What was it then?_

The pause was even longer this time. _I don't know._

Chewing on her lip in thought, Pip lifted her head to look both ways down the alley. She had an entire day to kill before she could start back towards the bunker. She pushed herself to her feet, groaning lightly at the protest her muscles gave her. Apparently they also needed more time to heal. Then she picked a direction, planning to explore the town.


	30. Chapter 30

The rest of Pip's day in the small town in the middle of nowhere was less eventful than her morning had been. Her plans to explore had lasted her for a while, but by the time the sun was beginning to set she had covered every inch of the place. Her exploration didn't yield much of interest, but the constant movement helped keep her relaxed and distracted. It was easy forgetting about nearly being ripped apart by her father when she was busy wandering through a side alley.

The few people who were out and about avoided the obvious stranger in their hometown, making wide paths around her. She ignored the stares and looks with practiced patience, moving at a brisk pace and hunched shoulders.

As sunlight faded away and she ran out of new places to explore, Pip slipped into the alley she had changed in, not wanting to experience another rude awakening by trying to sleep anywhere else. She wanted to sleep somewhere more comfortable, but the woman's shouts from this morning still bounced around in her head. So she settled for sleeping outside. _Hiding away in an alley like a stray_ , she thought bitterly.

She slowly tucked herself out of view by curling up behind a trashcan, cushioning her head on her arms. The trashcan didn't do a perfect job of hiding her, but the feeling of something covering her, even haphazardly, made her feel better.

As she settled down she shivered, the cold seeping in from the chilly asphalt that had been shielded from the sun. She rolled her shoulders and twisted her hips, trying to adjust to a position that didn't hurt her joints and bones. But the asphalt always seemed to find a way to scratch at her skin and dig into her. Her stomach growled loudly then, evolving into a small cramp that made her wince.

 _I should've gotten food_ , she thought, cursing herself for not thinking ahead. She'd been so busy distracting herself, she didn't get any of the essentials. The knowledge of her lack of capability weighed down on her, clouding her thoughts as she tried to sleep. She was way too underprepared for the situation she was thrown in. Every step was a guess and a shot in the dark. She had lived most of her life controlled by someone, and now she was suddenly alone, forced to make her own decisions. And she had no clue what she was doing. _Why even go back to the Winchesters?_ Tears began to well up as the thoughts tumbled in and buried her in an avalanche of worries. _I have nothing left. Nothing. I've lost_ _―_ _no, destroyed everything._

A sob escaped her before she could stop it, the sudden sound of it piercing the dark alleyway. She curled up into a tight ball as the tears fell, more sobs wracking her body as she gave up keeping everything under her tight control. Being alone had suddenly never felt more real, and only because she hadn't known what she'd had until it was gone.

She wished fiercely that Louise were there, with her soft curls and warm eyes. The first time Pip had cried in front of her, Louise had quietly pulled Pip into her arms and held her tight, rocking back and forth with quiet murmurs. The sensation had been so strange; back then Pip hadn't known that people hugged each other all the time. Every logical thought told her to not be in a hold like that, the vulnerability of it tipping off her sense of fight or flight. But by the time Pip had stopped crying she found her head on Louise's lap, her arms desperately clutching Louise's waist as if she were the only thing preventing Pip from drowning.

Pip wrapped her arms around herself as the last of the tears faded away. Hiccups bubbled out of her, banging her head against the ground every so often if she didn't brace herself. Crying hadn't fixed the cold, the hunger, or the dull pain that still throbbed in some parts of her. But it emptied her out, though she wasn't sure if it was in a good way or a bad way. After a few more hours of restlessness, Pip finally drifted off to sleep.

Pip woke up with a shiver that shook through her whole body. Teeth chattering, she curled up more, pulling the blanket around her tighter.

 _Wait_ _―_

Pip suddenly sat up, gripping the blanket that hadn't always been there in her hands. _What..._ The thought drifted through her head as she looked around. A bag and a note sat nearby. Pip snatched up the note, her eyes flicking over it.

 _Had a few leftovers I wanted to give. Please, dig in. If you need food, we always have hot meals available during the evenings from 5 to 8 pm at the church. I leave the place unlocked at the end of the day, so if you need a place to sleep, you won't be bothered._

 _\- Father Michael_

Pip reread the note several times, her stomach growling at the smell that was wafting her way from the paper bag. _Father Michael._ The image of the Reverend flashed in her head at the name and her mouth twisted. Even if today hadn't been the day she was going back to the bunker, there was no way she would be visiting any church. Even if Father Michael turned out to be a truly good person.

But Pip wasn't about to pass up an opportunity when she had one. Wrapping the blanket around her again, she leaned against the wall behind her as she reached for the food left for her. "A few leftovers" had been a generous term for the full chicken meal that she pulled out. As she unwrapped the foil, steam drifted off of the meat, the wisps vanishing into the cold morning air.

Her mouth watered at the sight of it and she dug in eagerly, if a bit savagely. Her mouth and fingers were dripping with grease by the time she finished, and her stomach was aching from her eating too quickly. But she gave a satisfied burp and tilted her head back, taking a few moments to savor the taste. She snatched up the water bottle that had been tucked in the bag as well, emptying the whole thing in a few huge gulps.

By the time she finished she felt sleepy enough to go back to bed. Instead she forced herself to her feet, her movement chorused by the sound of cracking joints and groaning limbs. The rough past few days weighed her down, trying to pull her back to her makeshift sleeping spot. But she dragged her legs forward anyway, resisting the urge.

The previous night, during her exploration, Pip had hunted for a map to tell her which road was the right one to follow. Finding a map had been difficult, getting her hands on it had been even more so, but luckily she'd managed to get a hold of one. The old thing had been tucked away in one of the few stores in the town, forgotten. It was undoubtedly outdated, but it could at least point her east. _Follow the road east._

Pip stretched as she walked and rubbed away the crust that had gathered around her eyes from her late night sob-session. She gave herself an obligatory look-over, checking her wounds to see their progress. Her hand was still unchanged, though dirtier now from her sleep in an alley. It still ached when she flexed it. The stomach wound had all but vanished completely, the skin finally sealed up. She was still dirty and smelly, but not as bloody as she'd been before.

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder as she finally exited the town, the buildings spitting her out onto the long stretch of road that disappeared in the distance. While she was happy to leave the place behind, she realized now that she had no idea how long it would take. She could walk the entire way if she needed to, and her muscles wouldn't be damaged from the exertion, but it would definitely hurt. Her mouth twisted at the thought of the pain that would be waiting for her by the time she managed to get back to the bunker, but she kept walking anyway. _Just a little bit longer._

"Just a little bit longer" evolved into forty minutes, and then fifty. After an hour of walking her pace was beginning to flag, the muscles in her legs cramping up with every step. At some point the clouds had split open and it'd started pouring as well. The rain pounded into her shoulder blades as she hunched over to shield herself from it as much as possible. Still she trudged on, glancing over her shoulder every so often in the hopes that a car would show up. She was more than willing to get into a car and fight with nausea if it meant she didn't have to walk anymore.

Fatigue weighed on her more and more as the minutes dragged by. She wasn't sure if it was stubbornness, determination, or just that the fact that her legs were too stiff to stop that kept her moving forward. The weather was still chilly out, and the rain didn't help either. Shivering, she pulled her already soaked sweatshirt tighter around her. She was just about to consider sitting down for a while until the sound of an engine behind her made her heart leap. Whirling around, she threw her hands up excitedly, hoping to catch the attention of the driver. The sight of the police car approaching made her freeze, a jolt of uncertainty shooting through her.

 _I have nothing to hide_ , she reassured herself, though the lie fell flat. She had too much to hide. Her heartbeat picked up as the car slowed down, pulling over to where she was. As the officer stepped out, her legs twitched, eager to carry her far away despite their soreness.

"Need a ride?" the officer asked, his voice low and smooth. Squinting at her, he stood with his hip cocked, one hand holding on to the belt strapped around his waist while the other was held up as if he was shielding himself from the rain. He looked calm as he studied her, no doubt taking in the sight of her dirty clothes and haphazard look.

"Um..." she said, glancing over her shoulder at the road stretching endlessly ahead of her. Wiping a hand across her forehead, she pushed aside the damp strands of hair that clung to her skin. She fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. _Why did it have to be him?_ she thought with a mental groan.

"Come on," he said, interrupting her thoughts and a waving a hand at her. "I'll take you where you want to go, just point me in the direction. You don't have to walk in this weather." A crack of thunder punctuated his point, startling her.

Her legs slowly shuffled forward, her brain spinning as she tried to figure out the best decision. The officer seemed to sense her indecisiveness and took advantage of it, opening the door and guiding her inside. Her body seemed to follow him, limbs moving stiffly as she found herself sitting in the backseat of the car. _This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, this is a bad idea._ The words spun around in her head. The officer shut her in and walked back to the driver's seat.

"Name's Gallardo, Officer Gallardo," he said as he settled in. He glanced back at her from the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling up in a soft smile. He seemed young. _Younger than Officer Denver had been._ The thought made her flinch, and she tore her eyes away from his gaze, squirming uncomfortably in her soaked clothes.

He didn't mention her skittish behavior as he pulled onto the road. "I'm guessin' you want to keep going this way?" he asked her, his tone still cheerful.

She nodded, staring pointedly out the window. After sitting tensely for a few minutes, Pip finally relaxed into the seat, allowing her muscles to recover from the unexpectedly long exertion. The raindrops and windshield wipers pattered out a soothing rhythm that filled the silence.

"So are you going back to your family?" Officer Gallardo asked, his tone still smooth.

"Yeah," she said blandly. She was too tired to come up with any intricate lies, and she found she didn't care if he believed her or not. Hopefully he would never see her again anyway.

"I see," he responded, clearly not convinced. They sat in silence for a few more moments. "I'm sure they miss you," he added, his voice softer, probing.

Pip crinkled her nose, trying to fight the sudden surge of tears that bubbled up at the words. As much as she wished it were true, she couldn't really be sure how she would be received when she got back to the bunker. Maybe they would be relatively happy with the fact that she was still alive―she was mildly useful after all. But _miss_ her? She stared at the window harder, imagining her gaze could burn a hole through it.

Officer Gallardo seemed to notice her tense reaction. "Do you miss them?"

She missed warm beds, hot showers, and a safe place where she knew she didn't have to fear all the things that wanted her dead. "Yeah," she repeated, her voice just as dull as before.

He gave an empty nod, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He seemed impatient to ask more questions, but he remained silent.

It took another hour of driving before Pip began to vaguely recognize the scenery. The long stretch of open landscape that had constituted much of the environment before began to change into the more familiar woods she knew housed the bunker.

Pip scooted closer to the window, her eyes carefully watching for any sign of the building.

Officer Gallardo picked up on her sudden change and slowed the car down. "Your place is around here?" he asked, his tone confused. He leaned forward as he peered out the front window. "A bit... secluded."

The familiar sight of the bunker peeked out at Pip from the hillside, and she jumped forward in her seat eagerly. "Here, here," she said quickly, tabbing the back of Officer Gallardo's seat.

He obediently pulled the car over and shut off the engine before getting out and opening the door for her.

She got out, her limbs groaning at her at the movement. But she kept the pain under control as she stepped towards the bunker and turned back to Officer Gallardo. "Thank you for the ride," she said, and waited patiently for him to get back in his car and drive off. Rain still drummed on the ground.

"Oh, I'll walk you to the door," he said, moving towards her, dashing her hopes. His hands rested on his belt again. He smiled at her as he carefully maneuvered around a particularly deep puddle. "Just to make sure everything's all right."

She stiffened, realizing now that getting a ride from him hadn't been a good idea after all. The brothers had seemed very careful about keeping the bunker's location a secret. "Of course," she replied after a few moments, answering his smile with a stiff one of her own. She urged her feet forward, going down the few steps that led to the entrance.

"Interesting place," he said as he followed her down. His head lifted as he looked around.

Pip paused as she stood in front of the doors, unsure what to do. Should she knock? The idea seemed ridiculous. Should she just go in? That seemed even worse. And no doubt the brothers wouldn't react well to someone suddenly waltzing in. The idea of knocking seeming like the safe option, she lifted a fist to knock on the metal door. Her muscles froze before her fist reached the door, her hand hovering over it.

"You okay?" he asked. Suspicion crept into his voice again.

"Yeah," she said. "Fine." She knocked on the door then, the sound seemingly too quiet to be heard. She stepped back, worry gnawing at her.

It took a few moments before the door finally opened a bit and Dean's head poked out. His leathery face was smudged with grease and sweat, a familiar dour expression marring it. He eyes flickered as he took in the sight of Pip and Officer Gallardo, the former sopping wet, the latter smiling with a too-big smile.

"Hi, Officer Gallardo here," he began before Dean could say anything. "I found your, uh―"

"Sister," Dean supplied automatically.

"―walking along the road and gave her a quick lift. Wanted to make sure she got home safe and sound, mister..." His voice trailed off.

Dean's face transformed into a charming smile as he opened the door a bit wider and stepped out, blocking the doorway with his bulky frame. "Gibbons. Billy Gibbons. And thanks, _officer_ ," he said, emphasizing the second word a bit loudly. There was a sudden sound of clanging from inside the bunker. Pip imagined it was Sam hurriedly clearing all the guns and knives that were no doubt littering the table. Dean tucked a greasy rag that he'd been carrying into his waistband, ignoring the sounds behind him. "Very kind of you to do that for us."

Pip could almost feel the tension radiating from the two of them. Both of them plastered smiles on their faces even as their shoulders stiffened from distrust.

"Interesting place you got here," Officer Gallardo said, echoing the statement he'd said to Pip before. He shifted slightly, trying to get a look inside. "Kind of far from town."

Dean shrugged, still smiling. "We really like our privacy."

Officer Gallardo gave a stiff nod and turned to Pip. His expression softened as he looked down at her. "You're okay?" he asked simply, his eyes searching her.

It suddenly dawned on her that he was worried for her and was protecting her from what he thought was possibly a bad family. _Or maybe he thought I was kidnapped_ , she thought. The sentiment made her like him a bit more. And she wished it was her only worry. "Yeah," she said, her distressed expression melting into a small but genuine smile. "I'm fine. Thank you."

"Alright," he said, nodding. He seemed reluctant to leave, but he seemed convinced. "You take care, okay?" He glanced up at Dean then, his expression hardening. "Take care." His words were heavy with emphasis as he gave Dean a pointed look. Slowly he turned away, heading back towards his car.

Dean gave a slow wave even as he pulled Pip inside, the door shutting behind her.


	31. Chapter 31

Pip wasn't sure what she expected from Dean, and she watched the hunter warily as the bunker doors shut behind her. Anger? Surprise? Suspicion? Even indifference would have been expected. Her muscles tensed as she waited for his reaction. Instead of any of her expectations, Dean simply ushered her forward, guiding her down the steps. "Alright, kiddo," he said, placing a hand on her elbow. "Let's get you cleaned up. You've got a story to tell."

The reaction was not what she was expecting, and now she wasn't quite sure what to do with herself as she was herded along. Her body wobbled slightly when she tried to take the first step down, her energy reserves finally maxed out. She'd made it, but now her muscles were ready to give up. Her soaked clothes clung to her, water dripping off of her and plopping on the ground. A shiver rocked through her.

"Sorry," she said, speaking slowly so her voice would not shake from her slight shivering. "I tried―"

"Relax," he interrupted, nudging her down the steps. "We'll get to that." His grip tightened as she stumbled slightly, her limbs stiff.

Sam appeared then, staring up at the two of them as they slowly progressed down the stairs. A wave of relief went through her when she saw him. He took in the sight of them and then, wordlessly, he disappeared into the bunker again.

They were almost to the bottom before Pip's legs finally buckled underneath her and she tipped forward. Immediately Dean pulled her back and swept his arm under her legs, easily lifting her up. "Alright, up you go," he said, moving quickly down the last few steps and carrying her into the bunker's main room.

Terrified at the sudden sensation of being carried, Pip stiffened, her fingers digging into Dean's arm as he bulldozed ahead. Her mind roiled, conflicted, but she kept it down. As Dean carefully lowered her into one of the chairs, she saw that Sam had brought a number of blankets into the room and piled them onto the table.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed under his breath as he pried Pip's fingernails off of his arm. She flinched, realizing what she had done. But Dean already started to wrap her up in the blankets before she could apologize.

She stared in bewilderment as the brothers turned into a powerhouse of activity, bustling around as they gathered bandages and clean clothes. Her eyes were exhausted just by watching them, and they kept fluttering shut. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to apologize or thank them. She had the urge to get up and do something to help, not just sit there.

"Pip." Sam materialized in front of her, holding a bundle of clothing out towards her. She blinked in surprise. "You need to get out of your wet clothes. Can you do that?"

Pip stared at him, forcing her tired eyes to stay open as they drifted between him and the bundle he was holding. "I can do that," she repeated dully, forcing her arms to grab the clothes. Stumbling to her feet, she slowly moved towards her bedroom. Sam carefully hovered behind her as she walked, keeping a supportive hand on her shoulder. Her legs tottered every so often but she managed to make it the whole way.

Getting changed proved to be much more difficult than she thought. The water weighed her clothes down, and by the time she peeled them off of her stiff limbs, she really was shivering. Her teeth chattered loudly in the room as she wrapped herself up in the new clothes. Her muscles were twitching now, begging for sleep. She gazed longingly at the bed as she adjusted her new shirt. _A bed..._ The night in the alley flashed in her mind, her sore joints throbbing at the reminder.

When she finally finished she reluctantly left the bed behind and trudged out of the room, her shoulders slumped. Sam and Dean were waiting in the main room of the bunker and looked up at her as she entered. Dean's expression was tense as he studied her, while Sam look as if he expected her to keel over. She thought she might too.

She stopped and stared back at them for a few moments, unsure. A million different thoughts and worries flickered through her mind, swirling around each other and tangling into nonsense before she could make full sense of them.

Then, before she could think twice, she found herself running forward and wrapping her arms around Sam in a tight hug, gripping him as if he were an anchor. It was stupid and it was silly, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stop thinking of Louise and how the girl used to hold her close and showed her what it was like to be normal, what it was like to be loved. Pip hadn't realized just how much she needed such a thing.

Sam let out a surprised grunt as she barreled into him, taking a step back as he adjusted his footing. At first he didn't respond, but after a few moments, to her surprise, he wrapped his huge arms around her like a cocoon. "You're alright," he said soothingly as she tightened her grip, burrowing into him. His huge frame practically enveloped her. Over her head he shot his brother an awkward look, to which Dean responded with a bewildered shrug.

She felt him shift and she was suddenly lifted again. Her mind riled up once more, bubbling around her and Sam in a stormy clump. Sam carefully placed her in a chair and wrapped her up in a blanket before layering another one on top. "Here," he said, picking up a bowl of soup that had appeared on the table. The smell wafted towards Pip and her mouth automatically started to water.

She carefully untangled her hands from the blankets and eagerly grabbed onto the bowl. The warmth from it seeped into her hands and she winced as some of the soup spilled over the edge of the bowl and went into her cut. She shook off the pain before she quickly dug in, shoveling the soup in as fast as she could.

Satisfied that she was eating, Sam stood up and turned to Dean, jerking his head and leading his brother into another room. Pip paid no attention to their exit, focused on the food instead. Only when she polished off the entire bowl did she notice the brother's absence. An instinctive surge of fear rose up in her but she beat it down. She focused on her hand instead, reaching for one of the nearby bandages.

"Here, let me do that," Sam said, suddenly appearing in front of her, and she jumped slightly at his voice. He murmured a quick apology as he held out a hand for the bandages.

"It's okay," she assured him a bit too quickly, holding the bandages closer to her.

"Pip," he said, his tone a slight warning. He shot her a pointed look, his brown eyes boring into her.

She scrunched up her face in reluctance, different arguments racing through her head. With a small sigh she gave up and dropped the bandages in his outstretched hand. Sam wasted no time in pulling up a chair and starting to work on her hand. He cleaned it off with a bowl of water that had been set nearby before starting to wrap it.

He worked in silence for a few moments before he spoke up. "What's with the rose?" he asked casually, his eyes carefully trained on his work.

"Rose?" she asked, glancing cautiously at him. Goosebumps prickled on her arm as she hoped he wasn't asking about what she thought he was asking about.

Sam tightened the bandage and then quickly tied it off in a knot. He gently tugged on it, checking it, before he picked up Pip's other hand. Her fingers automatically curled into a protective fist, covering the rose, but he gently uncurled them. He rubbed a finger over the bumpy skin that marked the outline of the rose. "What is this?" he asked, looking at her. His expression was almost fierce as he looked at her, and she did not like it.

She shifted in her seat, unsure what to say and suddenly realizing how defenseless she was in this position.

When she said nothing, he tried from another angle. "Did your father do this?"

She shook her head. "It's, um..." Her voice trailed off. "It's a gift from a friend."

Sam's brows lifted as his expression turned more suspicious. "It looks like a painful gift," he said, probing.

Eager to change the subject, she waved off his concern with a dismissive gesture. She reached forward and gently touched the shoulder that had been impaled last she saw him. "Is your..." Her voice trailed off again.

"Yeah, don't worry," he said, wincing slightly as she touched him. He gently gripped her wrist and lowered her hand.

"And Castiel?"

"We called a, uh... friend to help with him." Sam's expression made it look like it wasn't much of a friend.

Her curiosity piqued, but she pushed it aside. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes flickering over his face. "After I was... gone?"

"I could ask the same thing," Sam said, studying her just as intently as she was studying him. "But you look like crap, to be honest. You've clearly had a few rough days, so get cleaned up and get your rest and we'll talk all about it tomorrow. Alright?"

She chewed on her lower lip, unsure. Her muscles were aching, begging for a soft bed and a good, long sleep. _I can deal with everything else later_ , she told herself. She realized now that she had no idea what she was planning on telling the brothers, or how much she was planning on telling them. The image of Officer Denver's bruised and battered body flashed in her mind, his neck twisted, and she mentally grimaced. Never in a million years would she tell them about what she did.

The sudden weight of her secrets made her even more exhausted than before, and she gave a slow nod to Sam. "Alright," she agreed, wrapping the blankets around her and adjusting them so they would be easier to carry. The thought of sleeping in a giant mound of blankets on her bed seemed like a great idea.

Sam gave a satisfactory nod and then stood up, helping her to her feet. He eyed the blankets she was clinging to. "Do you need more blankets?" he asked, amused.

She looked up at him, amazed. "Can I?"

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Uh, yeah, of course," he said with a small smile, scooping up the remaining blankets on the table.

An excited grin danced on her lips as she hurried back towards her room, her arms stuffed with blankets. She teetered from side to side as she walked, her legs having difficulty moving in a straight line, especially with her arms full. Sam watched her carefully from behind, prepared to catch her if she fell over.

She dinged into the walls several times but managed to stay upright as she made it to her room. Tossing the blankets on the bed, she crawled in after them and burrowed herself inside. She wrapped them around her and poked her head out of the top. "Toss them on top," she said eagerly to Sam as he walked in after her.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at her. "Lay down, Pip." When she obeyed he carefully positioned the other blankets on top, tucking them around her. "Good?" he asked her when the blankets were settled.

She submerged herself in the mound of blankets, burying her head into them. "Yes," she finally responded, her voice muffled.

Sam let out a low laugh before he straightened, heading towards the door. "Sleep well, then," he said, shutting the lights off.

"Thank you, Sam," Pip said quietly, though she wasn't sure if he heard her or not. She heard the door shut as he left the room and only silence was left behind.

Pip knew that whatever sort of relationship she had with the brothers was only pretend, and would only ever remain that way. It was impossible for her to care about them, and impossible for them to care about her. _It will never happen_ , she reminded herself, squeezing her eyes shut. _It's better if it doesn't._ She knew it was only pretend, but sometimes it was nice to pretend.


	32. Chapter 32

For once, Pip woke to silence.

It took her a few moments to remember where she was, and her mind automatically reared up, searching for an imaginary enemy. Then the events of yesterday came flooding back to her and she let out a relieved sigh. _I'm safe._ She snuggled into the blankets, rolling a few of them on top of her and curling up underneath. There was no way she was getting up if she didn't have to. The bed was so much more comfortable than a dingy alleyway.

She laid there for a few more minutes, just relaxing with her eyes shut. The feeling was so strange. She was not used to being able to completely let her guard down somewhere, and she drank it in. There was no way of knowing how long she would have the opportunity to appreciate it.

Suddenly Ollie's voice shattered her peace.

"Pip. Pip," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Piiiiip."

She cursed mentally and curled up tighter. _Why?_ she groaned in her head.

She felt him sit down on the bed. There was a pause before his hand dug into the blankets, seeking her out and shaking her shoulder.

 _This is getting ridiculous_ , she thought, and buried herself deeper in the mound of blankets piled on top of her bed. "Go away," she mumbled, shoving his arm away sharply. "Let me sleep."

"Pip, come on, wake up. I brought something for you. It's a _nice_ gift."

 _That doesn't sound good._ Her eyes snapped open at the thought, and she peered out of her blanket fortress. "What did you do?" she asked suspiciously, peering at him with still-sleepy eyes. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging the knotted strands out of her face.

"Look," he said proudly. He was currently perched on the side of her bed, still dressed in his typical dark suit and slicked hair. Compared to the last time she saw him, he looked more like his orderly self. The harsh lines, wild eyes, and tousled hair were gone, replaced by his typical self-assured posture. In his hands he held a skull, looking even more cocky as he held it out towards her.

She stared at it with a blank expression as he held it out. As far as gifts went, it was not what she imagined. The thing was grotesque, blotted with mysterious brown marks and strange lumps. The eyes looked as if they had been tilted heavily on one side of the face, and the jaw protruded over the upper lip. Overall it seemed an utterly unsuitable gift.

Pip looked between the skull and Ollie, her face melting into utter confusion. "What... what is this?" she asked, leaning away slightly as if she were afraid to touch it. She desperately wished she could go back to sleep. _Maybe if I just lay down and say nothing long enough he'll go away_ , she thought, glancing wistfully at her pillow.

"Take it," he urged, bouncing it lightly. The skull's teeth chattered slightly as he moved it.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly took it from him. _I'm going to regret this_ , she thought, reminding herself of how stupidly trusting she'd been the past few weeks.

Gently cupping it in her hands, she rotated it slightly, and her eyes squinted as she examined it closer. The skull was heavy and even uglier up close. Its dark pits for eyes seemed to stare straight through her, its empty grin smiling at her. Upon closer inspection, delicate etchings of symbols appeared in the thick bone, stretching over the skull and into the recessed areas.

 _Incredible, it's a mini-you_ , Amon's sarcastic voice said in her head.

Her nose crinkled at the comment. "What is this for?" she asked, her tone painted with suspicion. _Maybe it will explode and kill me and I won't have to deal with Ollie anymore._

"Just some extra magic protection," Ollie responded. Her expression instantly soured at the vagueness, and he returned her glare with an insulted look. "What? It's helpful, and it took a lot of work to make it. You don't need to know what it does because it does all the work for you. Plus, it can be nice. Here, say hello."

She stared at him blankly. "What?"

"Say hello to it," he repeated.

"You must be joking."

He gave her a stubborn look.

"Fine," she muttered and dragged her gaze away from him to look at the skull again. "Uh..." She cleared her throat. _This really is ridiculous_. "Er... hello?"

"Hello," it responded.

Immediately Pip dropped the skull with a loud shriek. Crawling backward, she slipped off the edge of the bed before she realized what she was doing. She hit the ground with a resounding thump and scrambled away until her back hit the wall, staring at the bed.

"Wh―what," she panted out, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her mind roiled around her, agitated.

"That's very rude of you," Ollie chided, calmly picking up the skull and dusting it off. "Both to me _and_ the skull."

"I don't want it," she said immediately, cutting him off as he opened his mouth to say more. "You can have it back."

Ollie shot her an insulted look, pressing a hand to his chest. When she responded with a determined look of her own, his face hardened. "Now, Pip, I told you that you would eventually have to do something for me. So far this relationship has been very one-sided. At the moment, you are very much in debt and have very little choice." His eyes glinted at her. "You have to keep it."

She gave him a furious glare before letting out a low groan. "I'm guessing you didn't give it to me for my protection, then?" she asked, weary.

Ollie shot her a grin. "That doesn't matter. Just keep it in your room. It will be helpful. Plus, it will liven up the place."

She studied the skull again, unconvinced.

"Pip?" There was a knock at the door and Sam's voice drifted through. "You okay? We heard screaming."

Pip let out a quiet curse, her eyes flicking between the door and Ollie. She would have to tell the brothers she had a nightmare. Slowly she stood up, waiting for Ollie to disappear so she could respond to Sam.

Ollie stayed seated on the bed, a smile still dancing on his lips.

"What are you still doing here?" she whispered at him. "Go away! Do the vanishing thing you always do."

"I think this is a good time to meet the Winchesters," he said, his voice too loud for her liking, and she quickly shushed him.

"Are you mad?" she hissed at him, glancing at the door nervously. "This is a terrible time to meet them."

Sam pounded on the door, louder now. "Pip?"

"Leave!" she whispered fiercely, taking a step towards the bed. "You can come back another time, but not now!"

Ollie still didn't budge.

There was a moment of silence before Dean kicked down the door, gun raised. "Wait―" Pip began.

The brothers' gaze moved from Ollie to the skull before falling on Pip. They stood in silence for only a second before they zeroed in on Ollie and immediately started shooting at him, the bullets pinging off the walls and thudding into the bed.

Ollie flickered in and out before he disappeared and reappeared on the other side of Pip's bed, unharmed. Pip opened her mouth to appeal to the Winchesters again but they tracked Ollie's movement, still shooting at him. "Wait," she said helplessly, ducking out of the way.

Ollie, to her horror, said a quick spell, and threw a hand out towards the brothers. Sam and Dean flew back as he did so, sailing into the hallway wall behind them.

"Stop, both of you," she said, shouting now. Her mind bubbled in the air, writhing around as she felt the tension thicken. She struggled to pull it back, fighting against it as it leapt forward. Gritting her teeth, she strained against it.

One of the bullets struck the skull still lying on her bed and suddenly there was a bright flash of light. Pip turned her head away as a loud boom cracked, echoed by Sam and Dean's shouts. Blinking away the starbursts in her eyes, she turned back in time to see the brothers get blasted by two beams of light shooting from the skull. They both hit the ground and the room around them convulsed.

Dean immediately tilted up from his position on the ground and aimed his gun at Ollie again, his brow furrowed in a murderous glare. Ollie lifted his hand in response, bracing for the bullet.

"Stop!" Pip finally screamed, and she felt her mind pulse in a wide blast, violently shaking the room. The pressure of it pressed down on her.

They all froze, turning to stare at her even as they aimed at each other. Several seconds elapsed before Sam carefully stood up, holding his hands up to appease her.

"Pip, relax," he said soothingly, watching her steadily. "It's okay. We're done."

She stared at him, her breath ragged. Her gaze traveled from Sam to Ollie and finally to Dean, all of them staring at her as if they expected her to explode.

"Easy now," Sam said again.

She realized now that she'd been the one shaking the room. Her mind was spread out, pressed into all corners of the room, compressing on the walls and squeezing as the chaos in the room unfolded. Her hair floated around her, bending and coiling in soft wisps around her face. She'd come dangerously close to losing control. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, forcing her heartbeat to slow. Her mind started to pull back, loosening its grip and returning to her. Gradually the room stopped shuddering and her hair drifted down.

"Sorry," she said automatically, bowing her head.

"It's not your fault," Sam responded, his voice soft. "Did he hurt you? Are you alright?"

She was not expecting concern from him, and her guard immediately went back up. "No," she said, her eyes flickering between Sam and Ollie. "He's... well―" She sighed. _So much for a relaxing morning._ "It's a long story."

"Might I remind you both that you were the ones who charged in here, shooting wildly," Ollie said. He still held his hand up, prepared to throw a spell at any moment. Pip could feel the crackle of magic emanate from him.

"We heard screaming, asshat," Dean growled, his fingers flexing on his gun. "I am so tempted to shoot you in the face. Several times."

"Because that worked so well the first time," Ollie retorted, grinning wickedly at Dean.

"Enough," Sam cut in, turning to the two of them. "We're not going through that again." He looked at Ollie, his face hard. "You're going to follow us, sit nicely, and tell us what the hell is going on or I promise you will regret ever setting foot in here." He glared at Ollie until Ollie conceded with a slow nod. A conceited smirk still tugged at the corner of Ollie's lips. "You come too, Pip," Sam continued, turning to her. "You've got a long story to tell." He gazed at her uncertainly for a few moments, his jaw working as if he wanted to say something. He seemed to change his mind as he turned away, heading out the door.

Dean jerked his head at Ollie, gesturing for Ollie to go in front of him. Ollie obeyed, though he paused to stare Dean down before following after Sam.

"Come on, kid," Dean said to her. He gestured with the gun in his hand, and she wasn't sure if it was from habit, or he was making a point to her as well. She hurried after Ollie, unsure what she'd just been thrown into.


	33. Chapter 33

Pip was surprised to see someone else in the library room of the bunker. A woman stood with one hand resting on a chair, watching the four of them expectantly as they entered the room. A shock of red hair tumbled over one shoulder and she had a sly smile that reminded Pip of Ollie too much. She seemed just as self-assured as him with her chin lifted high and one hand on her hip.

"Did you two have some trouble back there?" the woman asked, tilting her head to give the Winchesters a sidelong glance. "The whole place was shaking like an earthquake. I was afraid I would have to rescue you boys again." The woman's voice was strange, a foreign lilt to her words making her speech sound almost musical. Pip had a hard time understanding it even as she was entranced by the sound.

"It was a... misunderstanding," Sam said tiredly. His shoulders had stiffened when he saw the woman, and now he seemed tenser than before. "Shouldn't you be with Cas?"

"How is he?" Dean asked, poking out from behind his brother's broad shoulders. He looked just as agitated as Sam.

The woman was ready to answer until Ollie appeared behind the brothers. When she saw him her eyes immediately narrowed, a look of disdain settling on her face. "Atticus," she said, her voice icy. Her previous smile vanished. Pip glanced around in confusion.

"Rowena," Ollie responded cheerfully, matching her frosty look with a smile. "Always a pleasure to see your smiling face. It's been too long."

The brothers and Pip looked between the two of them in surprise.

"You two know each other?" Dean asked.

"Unfortunately," Rowena answered. She gave a haughty sniff. "Atticus Finch, a lousy witch who would happily stab you between the shoulder blades in exchange for a few bucks. What are the Winchesters doing with the likes of him?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sounds like something you two have in common." Rowena responded with a withering glare.

Dean lifted his hands in surrender. "Hey, he's not ours." He jerked a thumb towards Pip. "Ask shorty over here."

Rowena turned to look at Pip and her face melted back into a smile again. "And who's this little bird?" she said, her tone suddenly sweet. Pip watched her suspiciously.

Sam glanced at Pip and spoke up when it didn't seem like she was going to answer Rowena. "Er, this is Pip."

"Pip?" the woman asked. She looked uncertainly at Sam. "That's an... unusual name."

"Not much worse than 'Atticus Finch,'" Dean muttered.

"Pip, meet Rowena. Rowena, meet Pip," Sam said.

"What are you doing with the Winchesters, little one?" Rowena asked. "It's not a good sign if you're in their company."

 _I could say the same about myself_ , Pip thought bitterly. "They're helping me kill my father," she replied, blunt.

Rowena's brows lifted, but she did not seem too shocked. "Oh? I can understand family trouble. What did he do to deserve the wrath of the Winchester boys?" She sounded excited.

"It's Rowan," Ollie interrupted, his voice flat. Any cheerfulness had vanished.

The color drained from Rowena's face at his words. "Your father is Rowan?" she asked Pip, her voice quiet.

 _Apparently she's heard of him too_ , Amon said dryly.

Pip nodded at Rowena.

"Oh, dear..." Rowena said, straightening as she spoke. "You boys always manage to get in over your heads. You'd think facing God and his sister would be enough for retirement, but both of you just can't quit, can you?" She studied them quietly before turning on her heel and walking away. "I'm smart enough to avoid this sort of trouble, so best of luck to you all. Pip, I hope your... endeavor is successful. It was nice meeting you. Ta ta." She gave a small wave.

"Hold on, Rowena," Sam said, stepping forward. Dean echoed his movements. "We have a deal. You just have to fix Cas. You don't have to go after this guy."

"I don't want to be involved at _all_ ," she said, twisting slightly to glare at them over her shoulder. "I've put in a lot of effort staying under Rowan's radar, and I refuse to let you two muck it up. If it's his handiwork I'm undoing, it will find some way to bite me in the arse. Besides, you have _Atticus_ now, here to save the day." She gave a wry smile, looking at Ollie.

"Could you do it?" Dean asked, his voice rough as he pinned Ollie with his gaze.

"Rowena knows as well as I do that you can't just change magic halfway through," Ollie answered. "It would reset everything unless I do exactly what she's done, following all the steps. And she's the only one who knows them." Ollie watched Rowena as he spoke. Rowena matched Ollie's look with lidded eyes, another smile curling on her lips. "You took a risk by making a deal with Rowena, and now she has the upper hand with you two," Ollie added.

"The hell are you talking about?" Dean growled.

"Rowan's magic is complicated and layered. You have to go about it a specific way or it'll reset, or make things worse. If I tried to continue with my own methods, it would trigger a sort of... magic defense that would either reset everything or inflict damage. Basically, it would be risky." Ollie's gaze swung over to Dean. "And I imagine you wouldn't want to be taking any risks with your friend."

Dean's hard look sharpened. "Just how much have you told him?" he asked Pip, glaring at her.

Pip's instinct was to flinch away, but she straightened, glaring back at Dean. "I didn't tell him anything!" Her fingers curled into tiny fists as her heartbeat hummed in her ears.

"Alright, relax," Sam said, separating the two of them with an arm. "Rowena, show Pip what to do."

Pip blinked in surprise. "Me? What about Ol―um, Atticus?"

"I don't trust him, and I don't trust Rowena." His voice lowered. "Can I trust you?"

Pip stiffened. The walls of the bunker seemed to lean in around her. "Yes," she answered quickly. There was only one right answer to that question, even if it wasn't necessarily the truth.

Sam nodded. "Good." He turned back towards Rowena. "Show her what to do."

Rowena reared back, her expression insulted. "Don't think you can boss me around, Sam Winchester." Her mouth stretched around the name, enunciating the syllables. Her head tilted forward as she stared Sam down.

"Rowena," Sam warned, his expression a silent threat.

"You think you frighten me, you big moose?" she said.

"Do you want to test it?" Sam fired back. He leaned forward, every muscle bunched and prepared for a fight.

The two of them stared in silence until Rowena finally broke, looking away. "Fine," she said, her mouth twisted. She stepped away from the center table, her shoulders rolled back in a haughty stance. As she marched past them, she met Sam's glare with a hard look of her own.

"Don't do anything stupid," Sam said, his voice low.

She didn't respond, gesturing at Pip instead for her to follow. Ollie moved to follow as well until Sam clamped a heavy hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "You stay with us," Sam said.

Ollie looked ready to argue, but miraculously managed to stay quiet. Pip shot him a sharp look, silently saying ' _behave_ '.

Rowena led Pip down a maze of hallways, occasionally glancing at Pip over her shoulder. Pip wasn't sure if she was suspicious or curious. Pip couldn't help but be curious about her, though. And suspicious.

"Here we are," Rowena said, stopping in front of a room. "It's a bit... messy in there, mind you. But not too bad. Especially if you're Rowan's daughter." She looked Pip up and down before opening the door and walking in.

Pip followed behind her, glancing around the room. Castiel lay stretched out on the bed, stomach-down. His head tilted towards the wall, his expression composed as if he'd just been asleep. He looked peaceful. Pip's eyes wandered down to where the symbols were etched on his back, the bloody wounds marring the peaceful scene. Different unlit candles peppered the room, colored a deep red. A sharp tangy smell filled the room, smelling of flowers and incense.

"It's been a lot of work," Rowena said, standing next to Castiel's limp form. "As much as I hate your father, he knows how to craft a good spell." Pip remained rooted at the doorway, staring uncertainly at Castiel. "Come here, come here," Rowena said, beckoning her forward. "Let's get this over with so I can get as far away from here as soon as possible."

Pip shuffled forward, watching Castiel as if he would pop up at any moment.

"Here," said Rowena, handing Pip a small wooden bowl. A clear liquid sloshed around inside as Pip gently took it. "Listen carefully, little bird." When Pip nodded, Rowena turned to the dresser behind her, opening a drawer and pulling out a bundle of ingredients.

Rowena began chanting the spell then, plucking one of the ingredients out of the bundle and tossing it into the bowl. " _Ortus_ ," she said, her musical voice low and somber. She flicked a hand at one of the candles and a flame appeared at the wick. Then she held up another ingredient, tossed it in the bowl, and repeated the phrase. Another candle lit when she moved her hand. She repeated the process until all the ingredients were gone, and she continued chanting the spell, holding her hands over the bowl. The contents bubbled inside, swirling around and blending together.

When she was finished she looked at Pip, her light eyes flickering in the candlelight. The pressure of magic had built up as Rowena worked her spell, and now Pip's limbs felt wooden under the weight of it. The air felt thick around her, squeezing the spot at the back of her nose. Pip's mind twisted around her, ballooning out as it kept the press of magic back like a shield.

Rowena's eyes narrowed. "Whatever you're doing, you need to stop fighting the magic. Magic needs to interact with you for it to work."

Reluctantly, Pip pulled her mind back, her skin twitching as the weight of magic reached forward and hugged her.

"Much better," Rowena said lightly, practically singing the words. "You make a good witch, Pip."

Pip held back a grimace, avoiding the smile Rowena was giving her.

"Now pour the bowl over his back," Rowena said, gripping Pip's shoulders and turning her towards the bed.

Pip carefully stepped forward, tipping the bowl forward. The liquid shimmered in a bright silvery color as it poured out of the bowl, thicker now than it was before. It glowed slightly as it touched Castiel's skin, a quiet hum emanating from it. The liquid seeped into the crevices of the wounds and slowly crept down the small of his back, breaking off into smaller channels as it spread. Finally it soaked into his skin, vanishing entirely.

"Almost done," Rowena said, her voice almost a whisper. Taking the bowl from Pip, she set it on the dresser. She moved to the opposite side of the bed, holding her hands out towards Pip. "Give me your hands." When Pip extended her hands, Rowena gently pulled them forward, holding them over Castiel's back. She glanced at the rose on Pip's palm, her brows lifting slightly she looked up at Pip. But she didn't say anything about it, turning Pip's hands over instead so her palms faced Castiel's back.

Rowena began chanting again, this time her tone slow and measured. Pip could feel a warmth building in her gut, slowly spreading upward and stretching along her body. She could feel the sensation crawl up the back of her throat and she fought down the urge to cough. The cloying smell of herbs, flowers, and burning candles did little to help.

A glowing light began to form in Pip's palms, similar to the liquid in its silver color. The beams stretched from Pip to reach for Castiel's back, and Pip felt a sudden jolt as they connected with the angel.

"Steady," Rowena murmured, slowly releasing Pip's hands. "Now move that along his back. Make sure to cover all the runes."

Pip's gaze flickered uncertainly as she glanced between Rowena and the bloody gashes in front of her, but she obeyed. Slowly she moved along the curve of his back, her hands hovering just above the skin. She could feel the light softly pulsing in her palms, echoing her own heartbeat. As her hand moved over the symbols, the wounds started to glow as well, the light matching the pulsing rhythm of her magic. Pip watched the process, enchanted by the sight and feeling of it. The candlelight suddenly seemed to dim, the room lit instead by the magic.

"You're a natural," Rowena said with a small smile, leaning back. Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

Pip gave an empty smile. It was meant to be a compliment, but she had a hard time taking it as one.

After a minute or so of Pip hovering over the runes, Rowena finally told her to release the spell. Pip straightened and the glow faded from her hands and Castiel's back. Gradually the pressure in the room lifted and Pip gratefully rolled her shoulders as she shook it off.

Pip studied Castiel's back while Rowena turned away and started to blow out the candles. The wounds looked cleaner now, the broad strokes of the cuts thinner. The skin looked as if it was beginning to stitch back together.

"It might take a few more days of this," Rowena said, switching on the lights in the room. She opened the drawer that held the ingredients and shuffled things around inside. "You need to take your time with it, like walking in a minefield. And it takes a bit out of you, as you're probably starting to feel now."

Pip flexed her hand as the wooden feeling returned to her muscles.

"I'm not sure how much magic you were taught," Rowena continued. "But I could show you a little something that could help ease the... 'magic fatigue,' so to speak. Make you feel less drained."

Slowly shaking her head, Pip lowered her hand. "No, thank you."

Rowena studied Pip over her shoulder before closing the dresser drawer with a light thump. "I organized the ingredients in the order you need to throw them in the bowl, from left to right. You'll need to start with holy water. You can get some from the boys, they'll have plenty."

Pip mentally winced as she realized just how close she'd come to getting holy water on herself and revealing what she―Amon―was. "Okay, thanks," she said.

Rowena looked at Pip quietly for a few moments, and Pip squirmed under her scrutiny. For once the woman's face seemed smooth and kind, a lifetime of troubles carved into her expression. Then her faced melted into a sly smile, her eyes calculating. "You are a talented witch, Pip. Your talents will be wasted here, especially if you're trying to take down the likes of Rowan." The woman's fiery hair glittered as she spoke, moving like a waterfall of flames in the room's light. "I can get you out of here," she said. "I can teach you more about magic, train you. You won't have to worry about your father at all, since I know how to hide from him. What do you say, hm?"

Pip stared at the woman's smile.

"It won't be an especially glamorous life," Rowena added. "But I think the two of us could make do, with our talents combined." Her smile spread into a toothy grin.

 _I hope you're smart enough to know she's lying_ , Amon said.

 _I am_ , she replied, miffed. _And I didn't need you to tell me so._ "No," she said aloud. Rowena's smile faded. "Let's not pretend you're interested in protecting me from my father. You'd have more to gain by trading me in to him than by taking me in. I'm not a profitable prospect on my own, and like you said before, it'd be smarter to just avoid the whole thing."

Rowena's smile was gone now. "You accuse me of such a thing?" she asked lightly, though her expression did not match her tone.

"Look," Pip said, sighing. "I've lived my whole life under someone else's thumb. Every waking moment I spend wondering if I can trust someone or if they will stab in me in the back for their own gain. And to be honest, I'm tired of worrying about that; tired of looking over my shoulder. It gets exhausting trying to keep track of where people stand with me, and it sucks have to be suspicious of everyone every day." She stuck her hand out, extending her pinky. It was something Louise had taught her long ago. "So let's make it simple for ourselves. I'll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. I'm not looking to gain anything from you, so let's just make it easier for both of us and have one less person to worry about in this world. Okay?"

Rowena stared at Pip with mild surprise, glancing uncertainly between her and her extended pinky.

"It's a pinky promise," Pip said, nudging her hand forward. She'd thought everyone did it all the time. "You shake pinkies."

"You're certainly a strange one," Rowena murmured. "And a bit naive. I see why the brothers took you in." She reached forward, wrapping her pinky around Pip's. "Pinky promise, then. Though I hope we never have to see each other again." Pip nodded as Rowena stepped back, turning towards the door. "Best of luck to you, Pip," the woman said, lifting a hand in a wave. Then she stepped out the door, shutting it behind her.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Sorry this is a really short, filler chapter, but I have a reason for it. Hopefully it will be a good enough reason. My idea here is to cut the story off here and sort of break off into separate episodes with the characters hunting different enemies (related to Rowan). My plan is to have them be separate stories, with their own chapters and such, and I will maybe play around with different POVs and that sort of thing. And maybe I'll try different POVs for events from one of these chapters as well, but I'll see. Then after a few of these separate "episodes" I would start Part 2 of the story. I can't say for sure that there would be anything in the shorter stories that would make them necessary to read in order to understand Part 2 (since as you've probably guessed by now, I'm inept at planning and I'm making this up as I go along), but I'll try to avoid it or re-explain things if it does happen. I apologize if you're not a fan of this idea, I thought this was getting rather long and I didn't want to clutter this up even more with short stories that may or may not be relevant in the long run other than the characters fighting the good fight against Pip's father (AKA stories just randomly tossed in).**

 **As always, thank you for the support through reviews, follows, and favorites. It always means a lot and lets me know I'm on the right track. Though if I fall off the track, feel free to let me know that as well. And if you guys have any chapter ideas you'd like to see, let me know. :) Thanks again.**

* * *

It took a bit of searching before Pip was able to find a piece of paper and a pencil to write down the spell's words and steps. The spell was simple enough, but she didn't trust herself to be able to recall the words, especially when in the middle of it. Once she was satisfied she had it down, she tucked the paper with the rest of the ingredients, shooting Castiel one last look before leaving.

When she entered the library room, she found the three of them sitting at one of the tables. Sam and Dean sat on one side while Ollie sat on the other, the latter leaning back with his arms crossed. Dean rubbed at his forehead, his body tensed as if he were ready to launch himself across the table. She could only imagine the conversation she just missed. All three of them looked up at her when they noticed her entrance.

"How is he?" Sam asked. He sat back in his chair, eyes expectant.

"He's still out," she responded. She could see the brothers physically deflate at her words, and a surge of jealousy bubbled up inside her. Castiel was very lucky. "He's better, though," she reassured them, her voice quiet.

"You've got the spell now?" Dean asked.

She nodded.

"Where's Rowena?" Sam asked, leaning forward to try and see around her.

Pip blinked. "She didn't come out here?" She glanced around, as if the red-headed witch would suddenly appear. "She left before me."

"Whatever," Dean said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "The less time with her, the better."

Pip studied the three of them, a million questions spinning in her head. But her throat felt clogged, holding back her words.

"Sit down, Miss Pip," Ollie said with a grin. He patted the seat next to him, his dark eyes gleaming. "You're here in time for the fun bit."

"Fun bit?" she echoed, moving to take the seat he offered. 'Fun' was the last word she had in mind when she looked at the three of them.

"I convinced Bozo and Chuckles over here to let me in on your crusade, so to speak," Ollie continued. "Since, as I'm sure you can attest to, I'm significantly helpful to the cause."

Pip's brows shot to her forehead. He was helpful, yes. But his other qualities tended to lessen the positive ones. _Though he has saved my life_ , she thought unhappily. _On more than one occasion._

"You're going to help point us in the right direction so we can get to this Rowan guy," Dean interjected. "We'll stick to our plan of poking at him until we're ready to hit home." He paused. "But hopefully this time we'll be more prepared."

A wicked smirk grew on Ollie's face as he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his coat, and his eyes lit up with excitement. Pip peered at it as he unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table. She was not very surprised to find a similar list of names and locations that he had given her before, though that moment felt so long ago.

The list looked ridiculously long. Pip took a deep breath at the sight of it; apparently they were just going to dive right back into things. The Winchesters knew no rest.

"Here's a list of our targets," Ollie continued. "You already have a portion of it, but this is a new and improved version." He pushed the paper towards the brothers. "It was difficult researching all of these, since much of Rowan's business has shuffled around since Pip's departure." He shot her a sidelong glance. "But here is the fruit of my labors. Guard it with your very lives."

"Uh huh," Dean grunted, snatching the paper up and holding it close as his eyes flickered over it.

"And Pip," Ollie said, turning towards her. "You will help fill in the blanks I'm unable to fill. After all, you're the only one of us who has spent extended periods of time with your father."

She could feel her expression sour.

"Sound good?"

She looked up in surprise at Dean's question. Were they truly asking for permission? Or was it just out of courtesy? "Yeah," she could hear herself say, even as her chest tightened.

 _Back into the fray_ , Amon said. _Get excited._

She felt a slither of fear slowly settle in her gut instead.


End file.
